The Forbidden Fruit
by Miss Fahrenheit
Summary: The unusual beauty of Sakura, thought an unsuitable wife, is sent to work as a servant to the Daimyo's son. Under the pressures of familial conflict, war, and prejudice, neither predict the added issue of an affair. AU. ItaSaku.
1. Prologue

My second story, this time an alternate universe set in old Japan. I give a lot of credit to my friends, who have helped me with their support and helping me flesh out this idea so much. Here is the first chapter, though it is more of a prologue; later chapters will probably be longer.

ItaSaku, of course, and it is rated for later chapters. Please, review to let me know what you think; it fuels my motivation and inspiration.

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**The Forbidden Fruit**

Prologue

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Perfection: an unattainable yet utterly imperative concept in the Uchiha household.

Every servant had a purpose and a task at all times, and upon them, no hair was to be out of place, no uniform was to bear a single crease. Their workforce adhered to a strict timeframe and schedule—any diversion from the customary day, set down in stone by countless generations, resulted in punishment. For a typical servant, only one correction proved necessary.

Either the Uchiha chose swift learners, or they were merely relentless disciplinarians.

Or perhaps it was a combination of both; there was one thing for certain—the family did not tolerate anything short of perfection. Rightfully so.

The family stemmed from ancient roots, dating back many generations that entwined somewhere with the emperor himself; furthermore, their compound sat conveniently in the center of the Fire Country, a land sought after greatly by many neighboring Clans. Its location almost picturesque, oceans and small, weak divisions of the land flanked it on all sides. But, perhaps its best attribute laid within its climate, fair enough to support a constant temperature and wet enough to provide rain—the ideal conditions for rice.

After all, the Uchiha's fields were capable of producing nearly fifty-thousand bushels of rice annually with five-hundred-thousand _koku _to support it on, which, in combination with their blood lineage to the royal family, ranked the Clan as nearly the most powerful in Japan. The ruler, Uchiha Fugaku, maintained it all under his strict jurisdiction; he a war-hawk and work-centric man whose only goal in life was to preserve his power—and pass it to his eldest son when he came of age.

At twenty, the time drew nearer for him to take the role as head, and closer still for him to find a wife. It was all the more reason to build up the regime even further—there was, after all, that delicate balance of transition that could potentially leave them weak.

The Uchiha land was a well-oiled machine; Fugaku would not allow anything to interfere with that or the well-being of his son. Thus, he had sought help in managing the imminent disruption in the fragile equilibrium, and he had found it in a small farm village within the Uchiha _han_.

It was thus that young Haruno Sakura had found the family strived for utter perfection down the very least of their workers and down to even the very youngest of citizens. Sixteen was more daunting a number than she ever could have imagined; it was the year in her life when she had finished her rigorous training, and in this year that she would be sentenced to her fate.

The red silk upon her shoulders had never felt so heavy, and she squeezed her bright eyes shut when her long, pink hair was tugged with a force that jerked her head back.

"A perfect handmaiden you will make," a brown-eyed woman, her aunt, chastised with a soft tone only faintly acrid behind her smooth voice. "Your master will be displeased if you make such expressions."

Sakura had grown accustomed to the caustic ways of her family; her aunt, who stood behind her now with an ivory comb, was the prime example of a Haruno specimen. She was plain and clearly of Asian descent—unlike Sakura's mixed European blood—with a sharp wit that was concealed when in higher company. And now, though she had known Sakura since she was but a child, her scolding was sharp and firm, for only the slightest touches of fear glimmered behind the ochre eyes.

Her niece was to be handed over to a man who held more power in the palm of his hand that was imaginable. Punishments in the family were often brutal, and while her master had been spoken positively of, there were always the noblemen who were not quite as ethical as they let on. She could only hope, with a fierce fervency, that young Uchiha Itachi was not the unethical type who would find pleasure in harming Sakura's soft, young body…

A slow sigh passed Haruno Akane's lips. Her niece was such an intelligent girl, but her temper would surely land her in trouble that no one in their family could protect her from. "You cannot complain so when something is not to your liking."

As if to demonstrate, she gripped the tips of her hair in her palm, and yanked the comb through them to rid the lustrous rivulet of all tangles or catches. Sakura bit the inside of her lip but reacted not otherwise. "I know."

The teenager had already been forewarned of what was to come and generally what was to be expected of her. She had steeled herself for every possibility, mental and physical, and had begun to formulate reactions and stress-relieving tactics in her mind—which was supposed to be a source of envy, with an intellect transcending over half of the Uchiha. It would be difficult, but it was what she had been chosen to do; she would not abandon her duty, for it was all she could be given.

The somber thought kept her body rigidly still and her face composed in an expertly feigned state of serenity. Akane continued to run the pronged comb through her long locks until they fell straight and glossy down her back. Admiring the peculiarity of her hair color, the woman intrepidly gathered them into a mass atop her head and pulled it tightly back and away from her forehead. The styles the servants wore were meant to be simple and plain, for drawing attention and instilling jealousy in the noblewomen was forbidden.

For Sakura, though, Akane thought with a pensive glint in her brown eyes, it would take more than a presentable but uncomely hairstyle to detract from her exotic beauty. Even in other nations, pink was an impossible hue; it was common belief at times that the girl was a demon. Her unusual appearance and enchanting green eyes gravitated the eye, but what more, her movements when dancing had bewitched many a man who had witnessed it.

But, the woman knew better of the sweet child; she was merely misunderstood in a world where a woman having an opinion was blasphemous to the male-dominated world.

Another pensive sigh escaped her parted lips, and she twisted the silken locks into a bun, pinning it to the top of her crown with a deftly and meticulously placed ornament. Her fingers smoothed over the bound hair, noting with quiet pleasure that not a single strand fell astray. Just as the family liked it, her hair amassed into a single bun atop her head and her skin was fair and free of any blemish or impurity. Finally, the layers of silk draped over her small, svelte body and tumbled down to her ankles—she was enveloped in soft material, concealing her entirely from any wandering eyes. And though the woman had done her job of preparing her for her master, she felt as if no amount of work could uneven the ground between the beauty of her and the Uchiha woman.

Sakura could feel her knees beginning to ache beneath the weight of her body, while the skin was lightly pressed upon from the grained tatami mat that lined the entire room. She could feel the eyes of her elder upon her, and she could not help but to feel pinpricks of discomfort slide down her spine at how very obtrusive she felt in this home. Colors of brown, white, tan, and black traversed over walls and floors, while she, but a servant, knelt obediently as a sudden breath of life against the ground. Vivid colors arranged themselves atop her head, and she was swathed in the glossy softness of red silk atop her pale yukata.

And despite how she appeared, with her hair intricately wound to reveal the long column of her neck down to the lithe form concealed by her robes and dresses, she had never felt beautiful. She was a supposed demon, and she was of the lower class; unattractive and undesired was all she had ever known and would know in this world of rich and lovely people. She was just a small decoration to stand beside her master, rumored to be the most beautiful of them all.

A moue took precedence over her lips, unseen to the woman who still stood beside her, finishing her work by twisting a few strands of hair about her fingers before the final touch was added. A lovely clip, adorned in dangling chains and ornaments, was a treat and a gift, and it was fastened to the back of her head, beside the twist of her hair. Once it was arranged, the woman let out an appreciative sound and stood, her arms folding.

"It is finished," Akane declared, examining her handiwork with a scrutinizing eye. Finally, she allowed her a single compliment. "It looks lovely."

But with her hair pulled back so tight that it hurt her scalp and that her eyebrows were raised slightly to accommodate it, it was quite difficult to feel anything more than ridiculous and melded to conformity. Her free heart and spirit smoldered, subdued but not dead, behind controlled green eyes in a flash of emotion that was utter detestation for her situation. Yet, she could say nothing, could not even loosen the arrangement enough so that she could keep at least a few more strands on her head at the end of the day.

Instead, she kept her countenance blank. "Thank you."

Akane, her posture straight and stiff, seemed to soften her eyes for a brief moment to rest her eyes upon the girl. As she parted her lips to say something, a sudden sound caused both women to start slightly. Every muscle went tense within the girl, but the elder woman composed herself quickly enough to turn towards the source of the sound. A rapping upon the rice paper door of the room had heralded someone's arrival, and before waiting for an answer, the door opened.

The wood framing that surrounded the delicate paper slid along the threshold in a sibilant slide of wood upon wood. The ajar frame allowed another woman, the sister of Sakura's current attendant, to peer through to examine the two.

"There isn't much time left," Haruno Mitsuko stated curtly, her eyes studying Sakura while she turned her head enough to reveal the smooth line of her profile. "Your father wishes to speak to you before you go to meet _him_."

Uneasiness surged through Sakura in a forceful wave through her blood. The low hiss of the word was somehow sinister, if not perhaps only eerie. Uchiha Itachi… Her lord, her master. The fire within her kindled within, setting the nervousness in her ablaze with a subdued and unexpressed defiance. The notion of any man being her master was one she abhorred with every fiber of her being, but it was something that could not be changed. She had never even seen the man before; she had merely heard nothing but praise spoken of him.

The cherished son of the family, he was; it hardly seemed fair, though, that because of that fact, she was unable to even see him before she would be given to him … for as long as she proved useful. Her heart fluttered lightly while she took in a shallow breath to steady her now-soaring vitals.

A stiff nod conveyed her readiness, and she twisted her body enough to face the door, her head bowed. The woman beside her rested a hand upon her shoulder, her fingertips brushing along the skin beneath the layers of her clothing. It was a soothing gesture, and while Sakura was silently appreciative, she was too numb to truly register the contact.

"Good luck, Sakura," she murmured softly, a final tenderness between relatives. "You will do well."

The girl nodded forlornly as Akane brushed past her, her bare feet soft upon the ground until she slid out of the room and into the hallway with her sister. There was a moment of suspended silence where the air felt too thick to breathe and her heart stuttered along at an agonizingly slow pace. However, another figure appeared in the doorway, whose figure cast a shadow upon the ground, which was illuminated with a mosaic of light by the sunlight filtering in through the window.

The man stepped in through the door, his feet slow and heavy upon the ground, as if the weight on his shoulder forced his mass the press more upon the ground he tread on. His face, wizened with age and his eyes tired from all that he had seen in his life and all that he had learned, was kind and gentle as he gazed upon his daughter. As the doctor for both families, he had shirked his professional medical air and replaced it with a paternal compassion that could not last. Father and daughter regarded each other for a long few moments in a heated exchange that stemmed from the knowledge it would be an indiscernible amount of time before they saw each other once more.

His child was strikingly beautiful, he noted with a grim tightening of his jaw, but the unusual features scorned in today's prejudice, despite her lure, she was not a suitable wife. Possessiveness and protectiveness welled within him until he felt his heart would burst from the intense love for his daughter. His only child, the only reminder of her late mother and his wife. Haruno Tamaki would do anything to keep her, but now, her master was the only thing he could give her; perhaps, then, someone would desire her for a spouse…

At last, he leaned forward enough to press a kiss to her forehead. Then, his large hand shifted to cradle her face in a last show of affection. "You journey and trials begin here," he began slowly, quietly, his eyes tired but never breaking form hers. "You are to rise early and sleep only when he has no need for you."

"I know, father," Sakura replied soberly, her eyes swelling with her pain now that she was vulnerable before the man who had raised her…

"You are to do whatever he asks, however he asks. You have one and only one master, and his needs come before yours," he continued, the words bitter upon his tongue. "Remember what you have been taught; do not displease him."

Green met green in another intense stare, and she swallowed hard so that her larynx slid back into her throat painfully. "I will do whatever I have to."

The two relapsed into a silence that was not quite uncomfortable but still heavier than anything she had carried in her life. The air was palpable upon her skin, and she took in a tremulous breath. For a life together of sixteen years, how could everything they wanted to say and could have said be condensed into a time that was only no more than a few minutes? The pain was immense and the weight of goodbye too much for the young girl to bear.

She would have to leave him—the one thing he held dear and precious to his heart. When he looked into his eyes, she knew very well that he saw her mother reflected within those clear, vivid depths. Her mother thrived within her, from her mannerisms to her appearance, down to the fire within her… The role of her mother had been filled, but never satisfied; she pined to know the love of a mother, but could only settle with the fact the woman lived within her heart.

Finally, Tamaki drew in a breath so deep, his shoulders rose in tandem with his chest. Thinking he had finished, Sakura slowly began to rise, but a look from the man caused her to kneel once more. "One more thing," he whispered quietly, seriously, with a darkening look in her eyes that knotted her stomach tightly and caused her heart to sink low into her chest.

"You have a fire within you—passionate and very dangerous," Tamaki stated lowly. "I advise you hide your opinions, but be aware of your surroundings despite the focus on one man. However, as a father, I beg you…"

The two locked eyes, and Sakura felt the breath go stale in her lungs, and it caught in her throat painfully.

"Never let them extinguish that flame. You have such potential, my love," he finished, defeated but fiercely desperate to convey that final message to her while he stroked her cheek. "I am sorry this is all that I can give you."

Sakura shook her head lightly, mindful not to disturb her hairstyle. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she suppressed the burning at the backs of them. "No, father," she murmured gently. "I have been given more than most women. I will not forget who I am, and I will do the best with what you have given me."

She could stand the silence no more, and they both seemed to have a similar idea. She rose off her knees, outstretching her arms, and her fathered folded her close to him and held her. It was a rare show of affection, but it was their last few moments together. The embrace was poignant and for once, Sakura felt as if she never wanted to end, she never wished to leave the comfort of her father's side. But time would not stand still—not for any man.

They parted and looked at each other for one final time. Neither said anything, but their similar, sad eyes spoke volumes that their lips would not form.

Sakura rose to her feet, subserviently lowered her head, and slid out of the room, out of her father's home, and into the strange, new life as the servant to the great Uchiha Itachi.


	2. Chapter 1

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**The Forbidden Fruit**

Chapter One

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If she were being personally honest with herself, Haruno Sakura swore she had never been so terrified in her entire life. In a regard, this was the end—her judgment day. Never had she been filled with such a sense of foreboding merely because she was making the painless journey to the house that had often been the subject of her fascination in her childhood.

She had often peered out the glass to another world settled in the wall of her secluded room and admired the people traversing the fields. As a young child, it was only natural to envy the aristocrats, even if she now loathed them for keeping her imprisoned within the house's oppressive, white walls. Furthermore, it seemed they were so irksomely perfect.

The Uchiha were perfectly built and adorned with only the most expensive of silks— she loved how they walked by in a flurry of glossy colors and trailing trains of fabric. She found herself often lingering on the women, as they walked beside their men in shoes that lifted them so high off the ground on lacquered wood, she swore they would fall. But their hair was the most impressive of all, done extravagantly and beautifully with stay-falling strands and intricate ornaments—as many as they desired.

Yes, in youth, the source of most her envy laid in their appearances. Even now, she somberly wondered why she had to be so different, why those not in her family whispered the word 'demon' as they brushed past her… It seemed nearly unfair to see such women, when she herself was impoverished in comparison, unbecoming by class and features, and underfed in stark contrast.

But now, she experienced nothing but a somber sense of dread and bitterness for their stealing away the last of her freedom. Her fingers curled into fists beneath the long sleeves of her yukata until her knuckles went white from the pressure. And despite the fact it was supposed to be nothing but a simple trek across the field separating the Haruno and Uchiha households, the emotion that clouded her mind was undeniable and intense.

Her vitals climbed rapidly, her heart thrumming in time with sound, and her breathing long and heavy, though composedly silent. Practice, she thought distastefully, for concealing her emotion was now to be a life skill. She would have reveled in her last few minutes of emotional looseness, but the fact that she had two male escorts accompanying her to the front gate of the Uchiha compound rendered her desires impossible to fulfill.

Being a woman with a fierce opinion not only marred her attractiveness but also made her wonder fleetingly how she was to survive throughout her career completely subdued. It mattered not, she supposed; she would be thrust into the world quickly without a chance to collect her bearings. She would be reeling through her new life, with the coercive change of demeanor and all, and still, nothing but perfection was tolerated.

But rather than dwell upon her thoughts and threaten her emotion boiling over prematurely, she struggled to ease her churning stomach by observing the beautifully manicured scenery that was the Uchiha gardens. The grass was soft and yielding beneath her feet, and spanned far beyond her field of visibility. In the distance, walled gardens complete with small streams and koi ponds were enclosed, with a myriad of flowers whose kinds were far beyond her comprehension. Sakura ended her thoughts there, for she found her gaze wandering backwards only slightly to note the Haruno house, simple and without care. There were simply no resources and no time, with a majority of their men working the mines and fields and their women attending the Uchiha house.

Today, she would join the masses, and she drew in a deep breath as discreetly as possible; she did not want to lure the attention of her escorts. Any conversation ran the risk of her façade chipping; moreover, she simply did not wish to be looked at. It was something she would grow accustomed to, she supposed, but the heavy, simple fabrics covering her thin frame and her hair pulled back unattractively to bare the broad expanse of her forehead made her feel exactly the way the rules intended… Unworthy of a second glance.

Her chin angled downward, flanked on both sides by the Haruno men, they passed through the tall, white walls that gated in the compound – her new home, her prison. When the gates clanked shut behind her, her ability to swallow and breathe temporarily was sapped, and it took two steps for her to gulp down her fear and take in a tremulous breath to fill her quivering lungs. There was the transient temptation to remove her shoes, for they tapped almost ominously upon the cobblestone pathways leading up the compound. The sound, surely, would drive her mad… It was frustratingly repetitive and what was a nearly inaudible tap was a cacophony to her ears.

Her heart slowed to a near stop when her feet touched upon the wooden veranda surrounding the house. When she approached the door, it restarted at a speed that would surely cause it to burst if this tempo persisted. Subconsciously, she smoothed out the material of her yukata against her thighs before lifting her head high enough to adopt a proper posture. Her shoulders were drawn back, her head properly poised… It was time to consummate her new purpose in life.

She fell short of the door, allowing one of the men to approach it and slide it open; she entered quietly, and she felt enveloped in tension as soon as she passed through the threshold. It washed over her in waves, but she remained intrepid enough to mind her manners and walk with the elegance that had been instilled in her for many years. She could still recall the biting words of criticism, all the insults tossed at her throughout her training that had culminated in a flawlessly polished young girl with a gait graceful enough to please the Uchiha men.

Each step was well placed, and she concentrated solely on the way her small body appeared while she walked down the seemingly empty hallways. Her green eyes were locked straight ahead upon a closed door where her personal hell remained. The daimyo, his wife, and her new master, his son, Uchiha Itachi… The men waited in the room, and they haunted the deepest shadows in the black recesses of her mind. Though, while she wrung her hands together quietly, she maintained her composure, knowing it was merely to assign her new duties…

Though, when it was a family who now cradled her life, suddenly so delicate, in the palms of their aristocratic, despotic hands, it was only natural to feel some consternation.

Sakura stopped at last before a room, whose broad rice paper doors were as wide as she was tall—a clear indication that it was either important or a room used by many people at a time. Yes, she maintained with a fierce set of her jaw, the room that stood before was indeed quite important; behind it was her work, her life… Her life, of course, for as long as she was needed in this household. Her next breath was laced with some intangible strength she drew from the air around her. With that, she mustered it within her to life her lead-weighted arm to rap upon the doorframe.

The voice that answered her gentle knock sent relentless chills down her spine. "Enter."

Cold fear gripped her and sent her heart into a light frenzy; however, Sakura utilized every technique that had been drilled into her throughout her life. Every method for purging her face of the 'ugly' expressions her emotions painted upon her features, every way of struggling to keep her vitals down, to keep her palms still when she rose… Her knees buckled for only a moment when she hooked her fingertips into the handle upon the paper door and pulled it aside to allow herself passage.

Her nervousness was absent from her countenance when she stepped inside, and her steps remained graceful and slow while she approached three dark figures kneeling comfortably at the front of the room. While her will crumbled within, she appeared completely comfortable under their gaze, with her head downturned just slightly to show her lower rank. When she stood close enough to them, she dropped slowly to her knees and crossed her arms.

Deliberately, her back flattened while she sunk down, her elbows against the ground with her forehead resting atop them. "I thank you for your hospitality in welcoming me into your home," she uttered mechanically, softly with the utmost of politeness reflected in her voice.

A tense few moments of silence fell over the four, and after several seconds, she shyly raised her head to sweep her gaze over them fleetingly. As she began to rise to kneel in a customarily reclining posture, still below the members of the noble family, her green eyes lingered perhaps a moment too long upon the most cherished son of the Uchiha.

Obsidian, dispassionate and icily formal, clashed with widened, timid emerald. A passing millisecond stretched into an infinite, indistinguishable amount of time when a mere glimpse of the fire of her spirit glimmered in the surfaces of her eyes. His own narrowed infinitesimally in response, a discreet gesture that stole her breath and immediately caused her eyes to dart to the floor, as if gazing upon him had burned her.

The thought that darted onto her subconscious lay somewhere between in how utterly petrified she was under his intimidating scrutiny and how the rumors of his attractiveness had not just been servant's gossip. Its veracity was stunning, and she felt herself withering down into the least of creatures before such natural, stunning beauty. She would have checked her pulse with her fingertips with how her heart leapt wildly within, had she not been invisibly bound in this position for as long as they needed her.

"Haruno Sakura," a deep voice began appraisingly, and by its deep authority and the chill that slid down her spine, she knew it to be Uchiha Fugaku, her master's father and the lord of the Fire Country.

Shyly, she peered up, her vision somewhat strained through the rim of her lashes. The resemblance to her master was rather striking, from the strong features to the stress that creased his cheeks. And in his cold eyes, she found no comfort. The only thing keeping her resolved and levelheaded was the warm presence of Lady Uchiha Mikoto—a woman whom she admired so ardently. But even her maternal presence was not enough to quell her fears.

"Today, you begin your service to my son. You are to obey his every command."

It was something she had already heard, and she lowered her eyes a moment before sneaking a glance over to Itachi, who was as broodingly dispassionate as ever. When she thought she saw the slightest twitch of his muscles to look towards her, she snapped her head back to Fugaku, who pinned her with a cripplingly intense stare.

"Your work is simply to care for him until he marries. You are to bring him his meals, clean his room, keep him company, and bathe him—all the duties of a wife."

The last on the list momentarily made her stiffen at the notion, but it was nothing she had not been mentally prepared for. Her fingers were fisted discreetly into the fabric of her yukata, but she kept her eyes resolutely on his face, her eyes just slightly avoided. "I understand."

A small duration of silence began, and the young girl felt almost as if the man allowed it to occur to unnerve her, or could it be Uchiha merely thrived on this heavy, palpable uneasiness in the air?

"As for behavior, you are always to be pleasant, obedient, and respectful," the daimyo continued calmly, his voice betraying absolutely nothing in that cold tenor. "If you bother or displease him, he can and will punish you."

The air she breathed felt colder; her lungs burned despite how she struggled to keep herself composed and unfazed. When her duties were relayed to her, it all seemed impossibly simple. She would be sheltered and fed all for caring for their heir without question and with a false smile. Yet it was so much more; the stress was immense, the tenor of the household unbearable, and the expectations were higher than what should have been expected for a sixteen-year-old girl. But such was their ways; to such she was to abide at the price of her life.

"You understand you may be done with whatever he sees fit?"

"Yes, sir."

"You understand that you are to complete every task perfectly, exactly as he pleases?"

"Yes, sir."

"So be it."

Fugaku rose deliberately, his hands folded within the belled sleeves of his robes—it looked as if it were made of things so fine, not even in her wildest fantasies could Sakura dream to even touch such material. Again, she felt vulnerable and so very plebian beneath these almost ethereal creatures, with their raven, silken hair and piercing dark eyes… And she, thin and small, with such unusual features, scarcely deserved to be in their presence.

"Sakura, you now belong to this man—your master, Uchiha Itachi. Itachi, this is your servant. Show her to her room." Silently, he departed, his back straight and shoulders back; the air in his wake was chilling and tense.

As soon as he had passed her, his wife, Mikoto, stood in a long, elegant train of silk and a soft chime of silver ornaments. For a moment, the two regarded each other, and the noblewoman managed a soft curve of a smile. For now, they were unable to speak, but the desire was mutual while their eyes locked. After all, this woman, so far above her in class, was the closest person to a mother she had in her youth.

When her own had perished in the brutality of war, the kindhearted Mikoto had found the young child curled up in the arms of her deceased mother, sobbing disconsolately for help, for compassion… And the wife to the daimyo had answered her plea—returned her to her father and offered her assistance whenever it was needed.

But now, they were driven apart by the invisible stake that was the rigidities of their social statuses—or more accurately her husband. With a somber nod, the Uchiha woman, too, walked past her to trial after her powerful spouse. Thus, young Sakura found herself utterly and chillingly alone with Uchiha Itachi.

Her chin angled up towards him to take in his emotionless countenance. For a long few moments, they simply stared back at each other, stubbornly wordless. When she felt her heart sinking in fear, she clenched her jaw defiantly against the greater will struggling to stifle her. Finally, of her own volition, she dipped her body low and rested her forehead against the floor.

"It is nice to meet you, Itachi-danna. I will try my hardest to serve you well," Sakura uttered mutedly but strongly and raised her head enough to look at him once more.

His jaw tightened for only a moment; at last, he pulled himself gracefully onto his feet and looked down. His patrician features were swept with the free strands of his hair when he studied her. "Rise," he commanded, his voice sending excited shivers throughout her body. "I will show you to your room."

It seemed impossible that such a handsome, but so intimidating man could be her master. Suddenly, her task seemed far more daunting than it ever had before. She blinked up at him, wide-eyed, but nodded in helpless compliance while she nearly stumbled to her feet. She felt his eyes upon her, somehow more intense than his father's, and she straightened up with chills creeping upon spider's legs along her spine.

Immediately, the ability to walk with seemingly inborn poise flooded back to her. Folding her hands tightly, uneasily, she waited for the man who was her master to move. She withered under another look she swore would scald her skin, and she burned under his eyes until he finally tore his eyes away. She felt rooted in place, but breathed a silent sigh of relief when he exited the room. The girl, carried upon light, silent footfalls, paced a respectful distance behind him.

When his back was turned to her, she found it somewhat easier to study him. He stood about a half a foot taller than her with broad shoulders that supported a frame concealed mostly by his intricate robes. Some of the patterning disappeared behind a rivulet of long, black hair that flowed down past his shoulder blades in a sleek ponytail.

Finally, he had a most peculiar way of walking, with his back rigidly straight and his head lightly downturned; surely, it must have been uncomfortable to look up with only his eyes while he walked… His stride was unbroken, though, and spryer than any male she had ever laid eyes upon.

Yes, he was a fine specimen of a man; while her feelings were platonic and exceedingly empty—though perhaps borderline upon fear—she could see why the noble family was so concerned with his well-being.

In a way, Sakura thought, for lack of anything else to do in this oppressive silence, she was almost honored to be entrusted with his care until his wife took over. But despite that, a small frown marred her placid countenance; one thing was for certain. Uchiha Itachi was not much for conversation.

What felt like an eternity was a two-minute walk down winding hallways that dizzied her with how much of the house she would need to recognize and navigate. The task would have been less daunting had there been anything particularly remarkable about the rooms; it was door after nondescript door embedded into rice paper walls. One of them, finally, was the one they had sought.

Itachi slowed to a stop in front of a room, and he pulled its door open, wide enough so that he could pass through, then only a bit more out of courtesy to allow her more leeway. Sakura observed the stern view of his profile before he disappeared into the room; she was just behind him, now allowing herself to increase their close proximity. When he initially said nothing, her eyes searched the room.

There was a small table scattered with books and inkwells, a window just beside it, and a futon mattress draped with comfortable sheets. Simple, noted Sakura, but still more luxurious than she could have conjured. Adjoining to it were two doors—one, she assumed, was the washroom. The other, he approached now, and he hooked his fingers into the door to pry it open so that she could peer inside.

It was small, rather cramped with nothing but a small futon within it. "This is where you will sleep," the young man declared at last, his tone mild and matter-of-fact as he studied her intently.

He must of read the flicker of emotion in her green eyes, for a slow smirk pulled on the very cusp of his lips before it faded into a soft sort of wistfulness. "You seem surprised."

"No," she replied quickly—perhaps too quickly. "I was prepared for this, though it seems not enough. It is merely different; forgive me, master." Shame burned at her cheeks, and she bit down on the inside of her lip to conceal any further display of her inner musings.

He, however, seemed impossibly calm, almost accepting. "I suppose it is new," he murmured, his eyes glinting slightly. "I forgive you."

New, indeed. As the Haruno heiress, she had been locked away in their house in a room that was separated far from the opposite sex. Such was the ways of their family—even in the Uchiha. Yet, she was a servant, his servant. It was trust, and it was a show of her vulnerability, for sleeping so close to him, she was available at all times for whatever he required.

Being close to a man was something foreign, but something she was unaccustomed to. Sakura found herself despising that knowing look in his eyes—this stare that pierced down into her very soul, that made the color rise fiercely through her neck. It was a most unflattering shade, she thought, while she lowered her eyes to his feet; red clashed so terribly against her hair.

Itachi studied the girl across from him intently; his thoughts focused upon her and the situation despite the fact he could see the silence crawled beneath her skin. He could do as he pleased, after all…

_Power. _A familiar thing, but so intangible in how it could crush others. Throughout his life, he had been coddled and sheltered, had others tripping over themselves to serve him, to not incur his already deadened temper.

The girl had been in his possession for little over five minutes, and he had formed no opinion of her, nor calculated any feasible use. She was his to do with as he wanted; to abuse, to play with, to walk over, to force her to do a myriad of tasks he himself could not be bothered with.

Yet, he preferred to keep his own company and indulged in nothing the servants in the lavish Uchiha home hadn't provided prior to the presentation of this Haruno Sakura. His father had given her to him with such subdued esteem for her. Yet, to him, her purpose was unknown, save for the tacit encouragement for him to associate with people, to care for him until his wife arrived.

Yet the company of a young girl, intelligent by birthright, it seemed, exotic from genetics not suitable for the Uchiha, in theory, seemed something unnecessary even so. Perhaps, he had considered in the silence that fell between them, that was the precise reason she had been chosen. So that he would not be tempted into something dishonorable while he waited to be married.

The forbidden was tempting, had he been interested in defiance, or experimentation; he had little resolve for the frivolities of affairs. She seemed pointless; perhaps the only interest he could find was that her supposed intelligence could entertain him with conversation, and that he found it amusing that she could not contain the color on her cheeks or suppress that subtle spark in her eyes.

His eyes fell half-lidded while he kept her ensnared for only a few moments. She balked and hid her eyes as a proper servant should do, but it seemed years of harsh training had yet to stifle that certain something within her. Curious, but nothing else touched him about her. At last, he parted his lips again, much to her relief.

"I will spend most of my time here," Itachi murmured lightly, uncertain of what else to show her. There truly was not much else, for until the family was certain she could be trusted, she would not be seeing much of him except to sleep at night and to bring him his meals. So would it be for nearly two months…

Seeming to think when she nodded, he creased his lips into a thin line reminiscent of a frown. "I have nothing more here; there is a servant in the gardens now who will show you the compound." He glanced towards the window that offered but a small glimpse of the lovely foliage that lined the complex.

Sakura eyed him dewily with another affirmative nod, following his gaze.

"Do you know where to go?" he inquired absently, his velvet voice never failing in making her physically weak from her trepidation.

"Yes, Itachi-danna," she lied smoothly with a gracious smile, expertly crafted on a calm façade, and a deep bow. "I shall leave you now."

She had little idea where she was to go, but for now, she did not wish to be in his company for longer than what was necessary. This was a period of trial-and-error, after all.

* * *

With her memory nearly photographic, she had managed to stumble her way in the general direction she had come. The hallways that enveloped her with whiteness and emptiness and fear slowly began to unravel their secrets; while she wandered aimlessly, she found herself slowly growing more accustomed to them. The difficulties seemed to fade away dimly; it was somehow easier not to think when her feet carried her and her mind was absorbed in her legs' absent meandering and the notion that she was lost.

It had not taken her long to find her way to the door leading out into the gardens—perhaps ten minutes at most. The sunlight filtered down and warmed her face, the thin filaments playing upon her pale—almost sickly so—skin. But it was pleasant, to feel the gentle heat and to inhale the sweet, faint smells of flowers that suffused sweetly around her. For a brief moment, in this natural, spring atmosphere, she felt free. Fluttering open vibrant green eyes, lit by sunlight, she focused her gaze upon the source of the pleasant scent; reality clattered around her and a slow sigh passed her lips. She could not linger for long.

Her feet light on the grass, Sakura quickly navigated through the rows of plants to locate the older Haruno woman who was to be her escort for the rest of the afternoon. As she passed through more low-hanging branches of trees laden with new blossoms, she soon found a small clearing in the heavy foliage where a thin line of string spanned overhead. It was pulled taut from a window to a nearby tree where a metal hook impaled itself into the thick bark that lined it. At the foot of the tree stood an older woman, who began to fold clothing pulled free from the line over her forearms.

Scurrying forward, Sakura stopped before the older, more experienced servant. "You must be Kushi-san," she murmured politely, folded her hands, and bowed deeply to the woman as a show of respect for her elder.

The woman raised her pale eyes to her, her lips pulled taut into a stern, expressionless line. Her wizened brow creased for a moment before she beckoned her forward. "You are late," she stated curtly.

"Yes, forgive me… I –" the pink-haired girl began, only to be cut off by a sharp cuff to the side of her face. Tears reflexively stung her eyes; it did not hurt terribly but it was merely the shock of the blow that had her body twisted away from her superior.

"I was told you would be here almost ten minutes ago," she explained calmly, emotionlessly, while she placed the robes she had been folding into the woven basket at her feet. "Lord Itachi likes his servants punctual; be grateful that I corrected you now."

A light 'humph' passed the older woman's lips as she lifted the basket into her arms. "Forgive me," Sakura murmured quietly, though angry tears stung threateningly at the backs of her eyes. "It will not happen again."

"I should hope not," Kushi said sharply, thrusting the basket of laundry into Sakura's now-available arms when she raised herself from another brief bow.

Sakura recovered and collected herself, holding the heavy load against her hip when it was abruptly given to her. It was something to be expected, especially after her 'transgression', and she would not complain about her new burden. After all, she noted bitterly, her superior took time from her busy schedule to show her around the house and give her advice on how to manage the daimyo's son. Suppressing the urge to sigh, she kept her eyes blank and her voice steady.

"Please give me a lesson," she requested and respectfully downcast her eyes.

Kushi grunted, as if considering otherwise. Finally, however, she nodded curtly and brushed past the younger Haruno towards the house. "Very well. Come inside."

Sakura's eyes glinted softly at the woman's back; however, she said nothing and followed obediently in her wake. She scarcely felt the weight of the laundry basket in her arms while she entered the quiet compound once more; only faint sounds of voices and footsteps echoed somewhere in the distance. However, she could not linger long, for she feared losing her guide in the complicated hallways that stretched out before her.

Kushi continued until she reached a large set of doors, wide and somehow welcoming. "This is the kitchen, where you will go three times a day—at six each morning for breakfast, at noon for lunch, and at six in the evening for dinner."

Sakura intently studied it, committing it and the general vicinity to memory. The older woman, in turn, eyed her through narrowed emerald slits. "I bring you here especially to tell you a bit about Lord Itachi. I have been serving him since he was a boy."

The pink-haired girl glanced up, startled but more alert. This was beneficial to her; when it came to dealing with the intimidating and quite enigmatic man, she would take any advice that was offered to her. However, before she began, Kushi gestured with her head for her to continue walking. Though her arms protested the extra burden of the basket, she steeled herself inwardly and tailed the older chambermaid.

First, the woman led her into the kitchen, taking her along the currently empty rows of counters and storing spaces for utensils and spices. By the perplexing array of equipment, Sakura though with a pensive blink, she supposed the family was much larger than she anticipated.

"You need not worry about asking for food unless he requests something special," Kushi began, pausing not in her stride until she reached a cabinet that spanned along the wall. She opened it, scanning its contents for a moment before tapping a jar. "He needs to drink this tea every morning—and do make sure he does. He is a fussy thing—likes sweet things. His father orders that he is strengthened with this bitterness, however."

The notion of Uchiha Itachi enjoying sweet foods amused the girl to a small degree, but she nodded quietly, absorbing each word with patient diligence. The other servant pinned her with a piercing, calculating look before slamming shut the doors loud enough to cause the girl to fumble with the basket in her arms.

She blinked as if to recollect her bearings and regard the woman owlishly when she mumbled some discreet warning to remain alert. True to the new tidbit of advice, she was immediately upon her guide's trail when she briskly departed from the kitchen and continued along the corridors.

"He will take his meals in his room—he prefers to be by himself," she continued with a strong and informative voice. Soft utterances of names of rooms and places of interest filled the small gaps in her speech, and Sakura found her attention split between memorizing the household's layout as well as the information on her master.

"He is an odd one that way," she added on pensively, almost as if to herself. "Don't expect too much conversation—at least not any he'll initiate; he's not chatty…"

Kushi tread now in familiar territory, for the girl was aware they walked towards the room she would share with the man. "He'll be in his study from breakfast to lunch for the most part. After lunch, he will either be in a lesson or outside walking."

While she did appreciate this insight information, she felt her fingers trembling lightly from the weight she bore. How grateful she would be to drop this off wherever the older woman had intended. "He really is not difficult; just getting used to his personality will be the biggest obstacle for you."

Sakura dipped her head. "Yes… I have already begun to notice this."

Kushi paused in front of hers and Itachi's room, crossing her arms while appraising the girl silently. "You will adjust. In any case, I am sure you know where you are. Those are his clothes—as your first official task, put them away. I will be back in a few hours."

Sakura stared for a moment at the retreating figure of the more distant Haruno woman; she balked inwardly at the amount of robes contained within the basket. Closing her eyes tightly and drawing in her breath, she assured herself inwardly that this would be simple. Putting away laundry. After all, this was only the first of many tasks she would be asked to perform… She reveled in its straightforwardness while she still had the chance.

* * *

She found the day taxing, but all things considered, not entirely terrible. Her chores had been uncomplicated and light, and the house not all that complicated to navigate after she was lead through the hallways several times. Her master was spoken well of in intellect and manner—and of course to be praised exceptionally handsome. Perhaps the only thing now that hung over her head was the already strained relationship they seemed to have. She had seen him only once before, and within a minute of his company, she had fled—rightfully so, but she was unsettled by him nonetheless.

However, of one thing she was absolutely certain. She would not allow his demeanor to crush her completely into a subservient woman. Some had been broken in despite their fervent, surreptitious efforts, but she… She was different. Throughout her life she had been assured of that. If there was one thing precious in her life now, it was that single spark of defiance within her that would keep her going. Her father now held her to a promise not to let it sputter or die; she, as a loyal daughter, would adhere to her solemn word. She would not be stifled, and she would thrive even under the adversities she had been placed under.

Again, so far, it had not been dreadful. The only true pain she experienced was the child within her that clenched down upon her heart with the desire to see her father once more. However, it was manageable, perhaps more so when it was harder to function with sleep weighting down her eyelids. In only one day, she had endured the emotional rush of parting with her family, in standing before the daimyo and his son, the tour of the house, her lessons…

More impressive, she thought dryly, she had survived two lessons with Kushi. Granted, they were basic and only slightly rushed—it was the last minute instructions on how to carry his meal, what to give him, how to prepare his baths…

It was simple but imperative; her mind wrapped around the new skills and ingrained them into her memory while her mind began to shift into a near sleeping state. Her motions were mechanical, not of her sublime elegance with even the simplest of tasks. She could not manage it now. Her hands pulled free her tightly-tied obi, letting it drop at her feet. Then, parting her outer layer of red fabric and loosening her modest yukata, she let then both pool on the ground with a rustle and 'shush' of fabric.

She scarcely thought that just through a thin wall, a man could enter at any moment, could ask her to emerge in her state of undress. It hardly mattered anymore, however; any esteem that may have existed in her own appearance was crushed in by the women of the compound.

They were beautiful and elegant in all ways she was not; it was impossibility that she could ever tempt such a man.

The bitter thought caused her to pull the tie of her sleeping robe too roughly around her waist; she grunted quietly before settling down on the floor. She shifted to sit on her calves in the small closet space abutted to his room. She tried not to stew over the fact that she was given a closet; it was convenient and befitting of her worth. There was nothing more to think about.

Night had long since fallen over the compound, painting the skies with blacks and blues and purples with a dusting of jeweled stars. Most of the activity had slowed and begun to cease; the new addition to the household was no exception while she began to prepare for sleep.

Where her master was, she had little idea, but she supposed that he was able to settle down for his slumber on his own… Taking the rare liberty, she let out a slow sigh of mingled relief and mere exhaustion while she unclasped her hair ornament and the pins keeping the unattractive bun atop her head. The soft pink hair fell in wavy rivulets down to her waist; she felt immense satisfaction in easing the tension in her scalp.

Furthermore, Sakura felt almost liberated with her long locks flowing down and loose. Opening her green eyes slowly, she retrieved the comb she had set out earlier and eased it comfortably into the roots of her hair. Deliberately and fondly, she began to run its prongs through her waves to smooth them out to a straight, thick cascade. She was careful and almost tender; it was an unusual luxury for her, to care for her hair in the seclusion of her own room.

However, midway through one of her strokes, the distant sound of a door opening and footsteps within the room caught her attention. Her brow creased fleetingly, and she finished pulling the comb down to her slightly frayed ends. Loosely, she cradled it in her fingers while she instinctively turned her head towards the source of the sound. Itachi had finally returned, she noted, and she parted her lips thoughtfully when her green gaze settled upon a small crack in her door.

Temptation gripped her suddenly, even though she knew she should not even be considering such things as… peeking in on his private life. However, the draw to the unknown was simply too powerful for the teenager; she shifted back silently so that she settled herself close to the door. Her small hand rested against the rice paper barrier while she let her face be slightly illuminated by the shaft of light that emanated from his half of the room. Her green eyes were focused on the young man, her mysteriously handsome new master. This surely was natural—it was only curiosity that caused her to gravitate to the subtle opportunity of an ajar door.

Itachi moved with an admirable grace that almost made him seem to glide across the tatami mat floor; his trajectory traced to where she had laid out his newly-washed clothing earlier. Resting his hands over the fabric, he searched through the garments briefly before procuring his looser, simpler sleeping robe. A light dusting of red covered her cheeks at what she was observing.

His face serene, almost somber with how serious his dark eyes were, he returned to his futon to lay down the garments for the time being. With his hands newly freed, he slowly began to untie the cincture around his waist. His movements were still infuriatingly purposeful, as if he were performing; somehow, she found it almost tantalizing. After all, the crepuscular atmosphere shrouded him further in shadows, with the only light being a flickering candle that cast a luminescent orb around him. Everything was bathed lightly in orange, from the gloss of his clothing to the subtle sheen in his hair.

Her entire body was rigid with heart-pounding fear at what she was doing and from anticipation. For what, she had little idea, but the adrenaline exploded within her veins in a hot rush when he hooked his fingers into the lapels of his robes, beginning to part them while he turned ever-so-slightly…

Suddenly, she found herself staring directly at the candle-defined muscles of his upper torso—only a faint tease from the v-shaped obstruction of his clothing. However, when she looked upwards, her entire body felt weightless, her head spinning with the heat and red that rose… Green suddenly met black, which was deadly and fiercely, primordially handsome with the orange glint embedded deep within them. His intensity and her own shame had her melting, and she could only stare, stupidly and open-mouthed back at the man.

She could scarcely believe this was happening. Reality and her reflexes snapped back to her suddenly in his sobering but crippling gaze and she felt utterly mortified when she slammed her door shut so tightly, it clattered and nearly threatened to knock itself from its wooden tracks.

Feeling shame pooling rapidly within her, she could only let out a slow breath to steady herself and reign in her mortification. Within twenty-four hours, she had managed to completely humiliate herself in the presence of her master—daimyo's son of all people! Even when she lay back shakily upon her mattress, her heart did not slow its staccato, relentless beat. She was fiercely incarnadined, exhausted, and more flustered than she had been in her entire sixteen years.

It appeared her servitude to him would be more interesting and difficult than she had ever anticipated.

Miserably raising herself onto her elbow, she cupped the quivering, blue-veiled flame upon her own candle. With a single breath, it was extinguished, and Sakura was enveloped entirely in blackness.


	3. Chapter 2

Thank all of you for your reviews; it does motivate me to write more! I'd like to give more thanks to my friends who have helped me edit and think. Also, if you check my profile, my friend, who is a very talented artist, has drawn some fan art and has other pictures in her gallery that are certainly worth looking at. To answer a question I've seen coming up, yes, there will be a few other canon characters showing up in later chapters. Well, here is chapter two; enjoy.

* * *

**The Forbidden Fruit**

Chapter Two

* * *

Though she had been in the Uchiha home for nearly two months, the weight of responsibility had just begun to crash down upon her. Despite the heavy burden just beginning to take effect, the most stressful aspect of her arrival to the family was completed. For the past weeks, she had been under heavy scrutiny and had been assisted by other servants to ascertain that she was fully prepared to take on her new duties. Today marked the day where she had passed that two month trial—the day where the household conceded and passed their precious heir into her hands.

After all, she had given no reason, with her behavior and her background of serving another family to prepare her, to not be considered suitable for his handmaiden. Though she knew it to be more superficial, perhaps her appearance that marked her as a demon was one of the most attractive things about her to a family. They possessed a tamed monster, and with her unusual qualities, she was able to fascinate the people whose company she kept. Furthermore, a contrast to her master's darker colors, she was a pleasing ornament beside him.

Of course, as such a stark contrast to others around her and with her ability to charm men easily with her dancing, she remained something of a forbidden fruit to the men of the Clan.

It was the only power she held in her life—the tantalizing impossibility of her body when she danced… It was thus that Lord Fugaku paid her careful praise and allowed her to stay.

Today would be the official day she began, and she did not intend to disappoint her generous masters. A slow sigh passed her lips while she began to smooth out her sheets in the room that was so small and bland in contrast to her previous one. Sweeping her eyes over it briefly, she was satisfied enough with the tidiness of the bed before she moved to the basin beside it**. **Sakura cupped her hands and dipped them into the clear, splashing the water upon her face. Having long since adjusted to his schedule, she knew she did not have long to prepare before he would begin to stir.

Though she had been comfortable with these arrangements, there was a familiar and long-suppressed curl of uneasiness within her. It would be the first day she would prepare her bath alone; it was something she knew very well how to do but something that unsettled her to a degree regardless. Pushing the thought aside, she donned her kimono and proceeded to tie back her hair into its usual unflattering bun. Twisting it, she pinned it with two red chopsticks that held it firmly to the back of her head. With that, she dusted scented powder over her face and neck to complete her quick morning routine.

It was all done quickly and efficiently, as well as in utter silence; she did not wish to disturb her master, who slumbering peacefully just through the thin walls. Straining her eyes through the screen, she shifted close, but could hear no movement from the other side. When she was satisfied he was still asleep, she carefully slid open the door and exited her room into his.

The powerful man still lay asleep in his bed; this way, he looked so innocent and peaceful. Dappled sunlight drifted over his features alluringly, and though she wished to observe, the memory of his eyes upon her when they had opened once kept her moving through. After all, she had no time; with full assumption of her responsibilities, she did have to make sure he was attended to—that included his morning bath and breakfast… The former instilled the most nerves in her, but she was able to regard the task with less trepidation than she had initially anticipated.

Her footfalls silent upon the floor, she approached the sliding door and rested her hand upon the handle. For a moment, she glanced back, as if to check if he was still lightly sleeping, and then carefully moved outside into the quiet hallways. Painstakingly, she moved the door back into place until it clicked shut.

Sakura moved carefully down the hall to the baths that were located just adjacent to his room. She opened it and stepped inside, and her eyes rested upon the basin intently, as if she would win over it in the battle of her nerves this way. However, she supposed this aspect would not be so difficult… Slowly, she approached and knelt before it; she carefully lit the fire beneath the tub and pulled herself to her feet with her hand resting upon its rim.

Next, she busied herself fetching the therapeutic salts and herbs. Her thoughts were fixated upon her task; the notion of being so close to a naked man was enough to unnerve even her, who had gradually become more accustomed to the busy machine-like operation of the household… She poured in the herbs and watched the water pervade through with a misty cloud.

Once it was prepared, she leaned against it silently and waited for it to begin to heat. With the spare moment, she considered how she felt about her master. In the two months that she had been with him, she only saw him at night and when he needed something brought to him; the first day with him had been the longest time she had seen him. She had little to no opinion of him, other than she found him nearly impossible to read. Others had praised him for his intellect, his kindness, but she had seen none of it—not yet.

Though, from today onward, she could keep his company for as long as he wished. Today, however, she may be spared if he required her for nothing—her cousins had requested that she accompany them to the village… The hand she had rested lightly in the water began to feel the effects of the heat. She sloshed the water gently in her fingers and felt the soft caress of scented steam upon her face; it was ready. Bending down, she extinguished the flame beneath the bath and then moved back down to his room.

For a moment, she eyed the door before letting out a soft sigh and submitting to tradition and customary behavior. The teen dropped to her knees at the doorframe and raised her arm to rap her knuckles lightly upon it.

"Master Itachi, your bath is ready," she called, feeling the passing glances of haughty Uchiha as the activity of the household began to increase.

She detested this aspect of servitude; she was to wait for him to allow her entrance. Had he not been there or if he was a heavy sleeper, she would be remaining here for quite some time… How humiliating that would be. In this household, however, humiliation was a common feeling.

She would be spared of it if only she had been born a man.

From within the room, the sound jolted into Itachi's subconscious; his peaceful countenance creased for a brief moment before his dark eyes fluttered open. The sunlight caused him to narrow them for a moment before he slowly rose in a train of fabric and a rivulet of dark hair down his back. Groggily, he slid his gaze over to the door to see the silhouette of the girl kneeling at his door; if there was one thing he was certain of, she had become prompt with time.

Itachi raised himself with some reluctance before he strode to the door with the practiced grace of a nobleman. When he opened the door, standing tall in his evening robes and his long hair loose and slightly mussed, he looked into the dewy eyes of the girl at his feet. Despite her forced air of respect which she had performed so flawlessly, he could dimly see that glimmer of something unidentifiable.

The life of subservience had yet to crush that spark out of her, it seemed—and Sakura knew she would never allow that to die.

She blinked up at him quietly, avoidant of his eyes even when she could feel his intense gaze. Whatever he struggled to find in her, he seemed to locate—but what interest he could possibly find, she could not fathom. Faint prickles of agitation crept through her, though she expertly kept her expression mild, attentive. The man did not seem to notice the defensiveness that marked her as one untamed, and at last, he was satisfied and uttered mutedly, "Rise."

Obediently, she stood to her full height, which left her head resting just beneath his collarbones. There was a small extent of silence before he brushed past her; her chin angled after him as he departed. After a moment, she tagged along after him a respectful distance behind, matching his stride but somehow envying the easiness with which he moved. It was a quick walk to the baths, and when they arrived, she closed the door. The click almost made her feel as if she were trapped; shaking off the sensation, she turned to him expectantly.

Itachi regarded her pensively, and they exchanged a fleeting look in silence. She had to bite back a smile—her typical solution to diffusing some tension. Friendliness was not a tolerated courtesy; she could only return something as simple as a smile. So, she remained straight-backed and somewhat uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Never had she encountered gazes as fierce as the Uchiha, though, she could recall fleetingly in her time here, she had heard a mere child comment that Uchiha stared simply because they knew not what else to do.

It seemed to be true… Or was it that he simply enjoyed intimidating others?

At last, he began to loosen the tie at his waist. The momentarily fumbling with the knot was a warning; she politely averted her eyes to the ceiling.

It took her strength to keep them fixated there, but her uneasiness kept them firmly rooted in place. Dimly, she could hear the soft shush of fabric while he began to undress and drop them upon the floor at his feet. Soon, she heard footsteps moving towards the bench that was set up beside the tub.

"You may look, Sakura," Itachi declared quietly, and when she lowered her eyes to him, she could see he was covered sufficiently with a towel around his waist.

She quietly nodded and approached him without a single trace of her trepidation in her demeanor. She studied his face momentarily, ignoring his bare torso which bore only slight ridges from the slight martial training he had endured. She bent over to retrieve of a bucket filled to its brim in cool water. Flitting her eyes back to him, she kept her calm countenance.

"I apologize, master. This will be cold," she murmured, keeping the apologetic tone lightly in her voice. When he nodded his understanding, she lifted it above his head and poured some of the cool water over his head so that he trickled down his body in soft, glimmering trails.

He shivered only once before composing himself; they both knew it was a necessary evil to rinse any impurities off before he entered the bath. Drawing in her breath, she pulled the cloth from the water and wrung it out. Once it was slightly damp, she slowly trailed it over his shoulders and arms, moving down his torso.

Itachi tolerated it in stony silence, and she was not protesting. It was the first day they truly spent together; in this time, when they were both so close and unused to each other, she did not expect either of them to be particularly talkative. Once she slid it up his neck a final time, she pulled it away and observed the gooseflesh that traversed his limbs.

"It is done; you may get in," she murmured softly, tearing her eyes away and placing the cloth back in the bucket. "I will get your meal now…"

Hardly waiting for a response, the young girl turned on her heel and hurried out the door. She tried to ignore the feel of his gaze upon her back as she slid into the hallway and shut the door tightly behind her. The walk to the kitchen was not a terribly long one from his room; it was merely that she felt surrounded by superior stares and auras. That sensation alone was enough to keep her already expert manners polished even further, down to even her stride. She bowed her head low in contrast to the raised chins of her superiors.

The walk was completed in silence, but when she pushed through the doors into the kitchen. She felt enveloped in comfortable presences, for all the servants within the household were Haruno in descent. Critical glances pinned her stingingly, but there were no superior gazes. The familiarity of criticism was somehow a comfort; it was merely to ascertain she represented their family well.

"Oma," Sakura addressed the older woman politely, "breakfast should be put on a tray for Lord Ita—"

"You mean your master," she countered calmly, hardly faltering in her movements while she sliced mushrooms thin to place into the soup she prepared for him.

They slid into the liquid last, and once it was finished, the woman poured it into a bowl. She placed it on the tray she prepared for him, and then poured his tea into a cup. She inwardly grimaced and recalled how bitter it was—it supposedly built character if it could be downed without complaint. Personally, she would rather forgo the 'strengthening'.

When she had finished arranging Itachi's tray, she went through the same motions with Sakura's meal, sans the bitter drink.

"Yes," the teen murmured distractedly, detesting how she could not even refer to him by name. "Will you help me carry this to his room?"

Oma nodded once, taking up the tray, upon which rested only a small bowl of seaweed-dusted rice and tea, and followed the younger girl down the hallways. As a trusted member of the house, she was permitted to enter Itachi's room for a short amount of time; furthermore, Itachi was merely content to have someone of her father's generation nearby.

They walked in comfortable silence to his room, where they set down the trays upon the low-sitting table in the middle of the room. Sakura nodded respectfully to her elder, thanked her for her time, and watched as she left. The sixteen-year-old walked absently to his futon and smoothed out the sheets that still faintly smelled of him, tidying up only slightly with the knowledge that his water would shortly be cooling off. Breathing a sigh, she slid out of his room and moved to the bathroom.

Here, she entered without knocking; he needn't let her in for reasons of propriety and practicality. However, she did not announce her presence, for she did not wish to disturb his peace. She took a bathrobe and shoes from one corner of the room and approached him carefully to rest them both upon the bench he had sat upon earlier.

He turned to look at her, and she immediately felt the color rise to her cheeks. It was not often she was so close to a naked man, but she was immensely grateful for the murkiness of the water. She did not trust her own childishly wandering gaze.

Keeping her eyes on the wall, she rolled her eyes upward in an exasperatedly mortified expression. "Do you need any assistance?"

From behind her, his lips curled up into the faintest of smirks. "No," he replied smoothly. "Remain turned away."

The tension that hovered in the air in those brief moments nearly suffocated her, but he possessed some infuriating sort of equanimity. Itachi rose from the bath with a cascade of crystalline water droplets and a steady cadence of water dripping into water. Exhaling softly, he allowed the steam to wisp upwards from his skin in a diaphanous wave of scents, and he nearly glistened with the sheen of water that bathed his lean form, accentuating the masculine angles of his body.

The water sloshed when he stepped out and alighted onto the wood they both stood upon. His eyes darkened further from their nearly black hue, and he stood behind her, nearly touching her… Sakura could feel his presence upon her back, and her breath hitched. No… What was he doing? Her eyes widened, and her heart started in overdrive.

She was forced to stand in attention, her hands folded in a white-knuckled squeeze. Her pink lips parted, as if to say something, but no sound came out when she swore she could feel his breath against her. She nearly yelped in surprise, felt the need to demand he back away, to know his attentions, to look and push him away… But she was frozen and petrified in this forbidden situation.

She wanted to scream that she would be killed if someone were to walk in!

"Close your eyes," Itachi whispered, but his voice seemed entirely unaffected, if not almost amused. He reached forward, and when he saw the glimpse of his arm, she squeezed shut her eyes tightly and obligingly.

He grabbed the robe she had set out and eased the tension in the air; Sakura could hear the faint rustle that indicated he had begun to don it. A soft tingle on her arm alerted her; it was the lightest touch, him accidently brushing her sleeve—which was slightly wet—against her skin.

Finally, he backed away, and she could do absolutely nothing but stand stark still, gooseflesh trailing over her entire body, and her cheeks humiliatingly aflame. When she looked at him quietly, he eyed her back, but there was something aglow in his eyes that was unreadable.

"Curiosity can be dangerous," he remarked simply, nodding to her curtly, politely, as if nothing had happened. His expression was almost whimsical when he turned away from her. "Let us eat."

Still somewhat stunned from what had just transpired, she nodded mechanically and followed him back to his room. They entered quietly and settled down at the table she had set their meals upon. Kneeling down at one side, she smoothed out her kimono as he sat down across from her.

Kindly nodding her head, she murmured pensively, to divert them both from that little fiasco, "I'm sorry if the soup isn't strong enough to drown out that tea… If you'd really like, you may have mine."

Itachi tilted his head curiously and a thoughtful sound passed his lips. "Do you ask of your own desire, or out of courtesy?"

"Neither and both," she replied, equally as vague as his tone. He seemed satisfied enough with her answer, and was rewarded with a crooked smile that she returned. "I offered mine because I have little appetite. I doubt I could drink it in your place, unless you ordered me." Her tone was only shifted to be only slightly playful at the end of her sentence.

"It is certainly bitter," the Uchiha replied smoothly, letting out his breath when he gripped the small, ceramic cup. "Though, it is fine… I will not subject you to it."

He raised it to his lips, and she noted that his eyes creased shut tighter than what could be considered comfortable or natural. Though it may be misconstrued as disloyal, she almost felt he deserved it or all that she was required to do.

However, she noted with some gratefulness that he almost seemed to be treating her better—he was in better humor, if nothing else. She took up her chopsticks calmly, her dainty hands the only mark of her status as a lady. As a servant in the home, her hands were soft, untouched from hard labor unlike others who were made to work in the fields. She was soft and almost delicate, while she carefully placed the grains of rice in her mouth, and her tolerance for physical hardship indeed matched her frame.

She recalled acutely what pain was, when she had been whipped in her previous home for spilling the tea she had been serving—as well as vocalization her displeasure. Proud and free, yes, but she could not take such brutality; she had only been eleven years old. Finally, the sound of his voice drew her attention.

"How has your adjustment been?"

She considered it for a moment. "Considering earlier events… different," she began carefully, eyeing him pointedly. "But I am adjusting well, and will continue to do so to your preferences."

She shifted slightly under his eyes; self-consciousness had her bristling inwardly and wondering hopelessly what he could possibly be looking for. He looked away first this time while he began to spoon the soup into his mouth.

"Master Itachi, would you be opposed to the idea of my leaving with my cousins to the village for the afternoon?" she asked suddenly, breaking the silence and causing him to look to her face again, for she was still wary of meeting his eyes.

The dark-haired man thought for a moment, though nothing was betrayed upon his features. "No, not at all. When do you plan to leave?"

"I was hoping to meet them after we were finished here," she murmured sheepishly, tilting her head up at him. "I would be back before dark."

Itachi nodded quietly, setting aside his spoon and bowl. "Very well. I am not opposed to it."

"Thank you, master," she replied eagerly, though kept her voice under control. Her eyes rested on his tray when he leaned back slightly. "Are you finished?"

With a simple nod, she rose to her feet and took his tray, then stacked her empty one carefully atop it. "I will be back before dark…"

They exchanged a passing, parting look, and when her lips curved into the faintest, shyest of false smiles despite herself, they both looked away and went about their own business.

* * *

Her leaving the compound had been easier than anticipated. While she was thankful for her master's leniency, she still maintained a somewhat spoiled opinion from their… earlier encounter.

His intentions were unknown to her, and Sakura found that she did not wish to dwell upon anything. Her master was complex, mysterious, and while in the company of her family, she did not wish to contemplate anything regarding Itachi or his family.

Five Haruno women had traversed the expanse of land between the Uchiha and Haruno homes, and while she disliked only one of those present, she found the conversation pleasant and welcoming. Kanna and Izanami, her aunts, walked ahead of their three nieces, and while Sakura silently felt pangs of resentment, she found herself almost jealous of one of the women.

Her aunt, Kanna, remained unrestrained by the grip of the Uchiha in most ways; she roamed the grounds of the Haruno, untouchable and free spirited in the most infuriating of ways. While Sakura felt the uncomfortable pull of her bun, the older Haruno allowed her hair to fall glossy black and loose down her back. Sakura's movement and esteem was inhibited by inexpensive clothing and unbecoming fabrics. Kanna's kimono fell loose to reveal a lavish amount of skin and framed her form perfectly.

Perhaps the only reason she was allowed such luxuries was because she was shameless enough to utilize them. The frustrated men did adore her so, and she was not at all picky in whose fantasies she satisfied.

She did indeed use them. But, with a woman so entrancing as to instill envy in the Uchiha women above their class, could she really be blamed? Many dreamed to be as stunning, as free, and with the right—however unethically she obtained it—it was only fair for her to use it. So, she strutted, she flaunted, and she spread her legs for whomever asked. She was the laughingstock of the Clan, but she didn't care… After all, when she looked in on the women working and bending over backwards to please the pompous Uchiha men, was it not she who was laughing?

She was witty, beautiful, but also brash and lacking true empathy. She had every right to boast, and she was the closest thing to a prostitute that one could be without committing to the profession.

Truly, she would never know how she and her father were related.

The small group continued on their way towards the village, until the sight of a bridge spanning over the river caught the eye of the youngest girl present—young Mina, who was no more than ten.

"I've never been to the fields before," she stated quietly, her light eyes glinting curiously. "Do you think we could go, since we're so close to the route anyway?"

Kanna's eyes lit up, and a sly smile curves upon her lips. "You know, that's not such a bad idea. Those boys have been working so hard all day; I think they could use a bit of motivation…"

Sakura's more prudent aunt shifted uncomfortably, and Sakura, aware of it and sharing similar views, narrowed her eyes. Both of them knew very well what her sort of motivation entailed. "I don't think it's a good idea. Mina has never been before, and I don't want her exposed to it yet. She's just a child."

Mina let out an indignant sound. "I'm not a child," she protested suddenly. "It'll be fine!"

The pink-haired girl let out a slow sigh, her eyes still fierce and strong. Ai, who was fifteen, regarded her patiently. "She will come to know of it eventually, Sakura… It won't be dangerous or anything."

"See?" Kanna cut in abruptly, the violet depths of her eyes glimmering. "Don't worry so much, my darling niece. I'm here, you're here; they'll behave for us… You'll make me sad if you say no."

Sakura closed her eyes, murmured something incoherent, and then looked to the others present. Silently, she nodded, and the youngest girl present beamed up at her. Kanna, triumphantly, beckoned them and walked over the bridge with a particular spring in her step. When they alighted on the other side, they began their walk along a well-beaten natural path. They were flanked by trees, and it appeared serene until the light rush of water became accompanied with a panoply of sounds.

Sounds of axes sinking into wood and the resounding chime of metal upon rock echoed throughout the surroundings. The young girl shied behind her elder cousin when the little-seen Haruno men came fully into view. Wielding axes and other heavy tools, the men, bronzed from long hours under the sun, worked the fields and mines. They were broad and impressive, with muscled skin streaked with sweat and dirt from their work. Their functioning was effective and smooth, though their movements and the gruff sound of voices and orders made things paradoxically chaotic.

They appeared almost dangerous, with their hulking, work-worn forms. Their deep voices that still managed to carry over the cacophony of labor did little to make them seem less formidable or intimidating. However, the women, who had grown up around the less polished men, felt at ease with it.

"This is it," Sakura murmured lightly. "Here is where lumber is gathered and ores are shipped from the mines."

The little girl peered from around her to take in what she was shown, and Ai watched on with quiet fascination. It seemed nearly unfair that they should be submitted to these conditions, but by their bodies and vigor, it had had the opposite effect on their spirits. They were not quelled by hardship, but rather flourished as they had been for nearly five generations.

The pink haired girl pointed, looking beyond the mines and woods to a rolling hill father off. "West of here are the fields, where vegetables and herbs are grown. In the same area, there is livestock and silk production."

As the boys grew, they were divided into different jobs. The broader ones worked here, where they swung heavy instruments into raw minerals and the tall trees that scraped the soft skies above the Uchiha's land. Others were sent to the pastures to tend to the animals, while others had the certain luxury of working amongst women in the rice fields. Perhaps that was the largest workforce, for as a large _han _among the daimyo, they had to maintain one of the largest income of rice annually.

Inwardly, Sakura was grateful that they were not closest there; she did not wish to deal with the large crowds of people. "The reason why our family is so large is because we make up the entire workforce of the Uchiha," she explained quietly, though her tone was unreadable.

Among their family she was an oddity, not only because of her pink hair, but because of the fact she was an only child. Most had three children or more to populate the Clan and fill the different jobs the miniature 'empire' needed to thrive. Breaking from her thoughts, Sakura looked to her two younger cousins.

The girls nodded quietly, but young Mina blinked up at her pensively. "Can we see some more?"

"No, Mina," Sakura replied patiently with a smile. "I don't think we should bother them. Besides, we have to be back home by nightfall. Don't you want more time to walk around?"

"Yes," she murmured, her eyes lowering for a moment. "Some other time?"

The girl was appeased when Sakura nodded in reply; her obedience was rewarded with a smile. Sakura almost regretted beginning to take away her liberties so early, but knew such simple things were necessary for a child. At least she would not be subjected to the abuse she had endured for some time.

"All right," Sakura declared. "I guess we're ready to…"

However, before she could finish, Kanna, who seemed to be uninterested in her quick lesson, had already begun to dart off. Her sister's eyes widened.

"Kanna!" Izanami called. "Where are you going?"

The beautiful woman turned, smiled cheekily, and then resumed her running. Her kimono was almost indecent, with how its lapels parted low and revealing. Her hair still remained flawless, trailing behind her in an inky river. Sakura found herself with the fleeting velleity that she would fall and muddy herself.

She approached a large, wooden watchtower upon which one of their men was situated. From a distance, the others heard the woman call something in a sultry voice, and she swayed enticingly. Izanami's eyes glinted in a sudden sharpness when the man procured an instrument.

"What's going on?" Mina asked quietly, timidly.

"For some reason, Kanna has convinced him to call a break," Sakura muttered dryly, bitterly. "They will be returning home."

Insufferable woman! What more, they were on the path to the exit… The men were free to depart and intercept their company. Almost as soon as she had thought it, the sound of the man's horn stretched out over across the land. Others stationed nearby slowly began to take up the whimsical, liberating cry until it echoed in harmony around them.

"I think we should go," Sakura muttered as Kanna merrily returned to them.

"Oh, what's the rush, Sakura?" she replied chirpily, her eyes creasing into a smile. "Just stay a while."

The men, who bore axes across their broad shoulders, approached the bridge women barred access to by their presence. Two younger girls shrunk back slightly, intimidated by the muscles they bore and the scars that crisscrossed their skin. Finally, a small congregation gathered before them, and one, who was the largest of the group, settled his eyes on them.

"Lady Haruno," he began, addressing her formally as the daughter to the head of their Clan. His eyes were amused, if not a bit agitated. "You finally visit, and yet you bring children."

"Uncle," she countered the snide man calmly, with a curt nod. "We are not staying long. I would hope you would be more respectful to the future ladies of our Clan."

"Yes, Gin," Izanami agreed teasingly, sliding into view with a small smile. Though normally shy, the woman was intrepid in the face of her husband, and she paced close to him. "I thought you would behave… And you don't even greet your wife."

The man regarded her for only a split second before the axe he bore was dropped to the ground. Abruptly, he pulled her close to him and kissed her fervently, assertively. Though none seemed to mind terribly, although Mina was a bit uncertain, it was only expected—the men did not get to see their wives all that much.

Meanwhile, Kanna 's eyes swept the crowd; she rested her hands on her hips. "All right, where is he? Are you treating him right?"

"Of course," one replied, smirking. "As if he were one of our own."

"And you never know; he just might be!"

The comment elicited a peal of raucous laughter from the group; it was a running joke, after all. Just how many of them had Kanna slept with?

Kanna narrowed her violent eyes and tossed her hair pompously. "Now that you idiots have had your laugh, where is my son?"

They muttered amongst themselves, and then parted. A young boy was almost unwillingly pushed forward into the woman's view. His eyes, dark brown but just as fierce as his mother's, locked with hers. The strong look faded to an exasperated sort of disinterest and slid to Sakura when the woman ensnared him in her embrace.

"Oh, Setsuna! I've missed you; you've been gone for too long!" She fawned over him needlessly, her tone over endearing and clearly coddling.

"Yes, yes, mother," he murmured softly, setting his jaw and enduring her affection. "I haven't died yet."

The boy didn't particularly care for her despite her seemingly undying adoration for him. On Kanna's defense, he had been an accident, but the best accident she had ever experienced. In the world, she was alone save for the men she entertained and drew pleasure from. Despite her wild nature, she had settled down just enough to raise him. He was her everything, her life… Deep within, the mature woman within her wished she could give him more. But the boy she loved so much wanted nothing to do with her.

He had almost been happy to go to work to escape her, yet even so, it was impossible. She came frequently, if not for him, then to entertain her rowdy admirers. The rumors and insults tossed about pertaining to her shamed him. And even if they were about her, it stung him as well. He would never know his father—there were too many likely candidates.

But he found solace.

Setsuna and Sakura regarded each other for some time in yearning silence. Both could still recall the days they could freely play together outside their home. Both could still remember acutely what it was like to have each other as best friends, unaware of the lives they would each take. But for her, it was almost a fading memory what it was like to be close to a boy. He was the only one she had known.

Sakura regarded him with a wistful glint in her eyes. Was he already thirteen? It hardly seemed that long ago when they were but small children. But of course he must have been… Thirteen, though seemingly young, was a coming of age.

For her family, it was the year they would be sent out to work. From dawn to dusk, they toiled over their tasks in the blistering heat of the sun. It was a monotonous life, and it was certainly a hard one. The Uchiha boys, on the other hand, adopted their roles as men. They would be sent to more classes to reflect their new manhood—such as martial arts or fencing. She found the lifestyles unfairly divergent.

But now her best friend who was once a small boy was now a man. For now,their worlds were divided; she knew it would be some time before she was able to see him.

"Come on," Sakura addressed her cousins, knowing her aunts would be occupied with the men. "We've intruded long enough."

Kanna still held tightly to her son, Izanami still was occupied with her husband. Behind them, the others still chuckled over their wit, while others grew impatient enough for their break to begin catcalling to those in front to start moving.

The other girls nodded obligingly to her suggestion, just as eager to retreat before the rest of the men crowded the bridge. While they were safe, as she belonged to none of them, she simply did not wish to dwell upon fond childhood memories for much longer.

* * *

The section of town they passed through once they had left their family's land was not exactly considered the nicest part of the village of Konoha, but certainly not seedier than the Red Light District. It was a place spoken of frequently in the Uchiha house; the men whispered of it in secret, the women turned their noses up to it, and the Haruno reveled in the familiarity of something reminiscent of home.

The three young girls crowded close together while they passed buildings, peering in through windows and observing the pedestrians around them. Sakura, too, with her hair tied tightly atop her head and her inexpensive robes constricting, felt the usual tremor of yearning by being within the area. Proud women brushed around them, and while their hair flowed free and their robes were loosened and less modest, the three felt exceedingly out of place amongst them, yet somehow intimately connected with their roots.

Sakura kept young Mina close to her side, one hand gently atop her head while they wandered down the cobblestone pathways that were alive and flourishing with throngs of people and the din of many voices. People crowded in the teahouses, people bartered on the streets, and women were free to converse freely however they so desired. And though they were so ignoble, they were nearly as beautiful as the Uchiha. She glanced about discreetly to observe them. They walked with seductive poise; they smiled coyly and laughed unabashedly.

Despite their supposedly sinful style of life, one thing was remarkable about the inhabitants. Something was aflame in their eyes that marked them as… alive. Happy. She could see the men drinking through the windows to buildings, some dancing and jeering and carousing. No rigid formality marked them, and while they were a sharp contrast to them men she knew to be of the aristocratic family, she noted that it was not quite as lewd as it was supposed to be. They minded their own business, and they tended to and used their women as they pleased in the privacy of their homes.

Few seemed to wander to the tucked away section of the town, where brothels lined the streets. Though, meanwhile, an Uchiha man was entertained by its workers. She had seen them on her journeys into Konoha throughout her time at the house—faces she recognized with criticizing, haughty eyes. Yet, in her element, lost to desires and stifled to the degree of madness, they were rendered shameful and skulking while they emerged from the streets nearly everyone knew where they led.

Was it, then, that the social system was an illusion? That the noblest of men by blood became what they looked down upon by night… That the poorest, most raunchy of men restrained themselves from what was illicit?

Could it be, then, that her master, shown earlier, was not as pure and proper as many seemed to think him?

Sakura felt her stomach curl with the notion, and a small wave of uneasy nausea surge through her.

"Are you all right, Sakura?" Ai asked and furrowed her brow. "You look…"

"Yes, I'm fine," Sakura snapped quickly, but composed herself enough to smile disarmingly. "I was just thinking for a moment; don't mind me."

And though she was content to be out with her cousins, her enjoyment was shadowed only slightly by her musings.


	4. Chapter 3

* * *

**The Forbidden Fruit:**

Chapter Three

* * *

Haruno Sakura awoke with a goal in mind—the first initiative she had received in quite some time. The young girl was resolute in unraveling at least one aspect of Uchiha Itachi's character.

It had been a transient thought in her waking conscious and a tugging notion that had followed her throughout the morning. She had pondered it throughout her trek through the house, through breakfast, but could not form a single deduction about him that was concrete. It was truly ridiculous how untouchable and almost divine he seemed in the favorable light of his kinsmen. In fact, she only saw a vulnerable side him in the morning, for when the light washed over him, all intensity and seriousness were purged from him. In those rare moments, the girl could look at him as someone who was nothing but a mere man.

However, in the afternoon light, the sun did not have quite the same effect on him. Rather, it cast his eyes in a brightness that glinted harshly off his dark irises; I made it even more difficult to read emotion within him—if he ever allowed any to be betrayed at all. The only thing she had gathered was that he was courteous if nothing else.

Rather than demand, he had suggested politely that they go on a walk together. Obligated even if she did not feel inclined, she accepted with a reserved sort of gratitude. Thus, Sakura found herself walking beside the great Uchiha Itachi on the winding, well-worn paths of the Uchiha gardens.

It truly was as beautiful as it was fabled to be. Their way was guided by hedges flanking them on each side, while other flowers were flecks of color upon the tall walls of green. Somewhere beyond her sight, a small creek cut its path down the ground with a faint murmur of water that tumbled into the ponds. But, Sakura's attention lay elsewhere other than in the lovely scenery.

Rather, she puzzled over her master with a peculiar glint in her eyes. It was as if looking at him would provide her with the answers she sought.

_'I've been with him for two months,' _she thought, tilting her head with the curiosity burning behind her gaze. _'And I still know nothing about him.' _

Indeed, she did not; he was so frustratingly quiet with that distinct brooding aura all young Uchiha seemed to bear. His profile was veiled in sunlight, but even with the gleam in her eyes, she mastered the art of looking innocently away whenever he cast his eyes towards her once more.

The silence was uncertain, but decidedly not terribly uncomfortable. She could feel today, while they were away from the home, his demeanor had lightened somewhat, as if he were struggling to accommodate her into his life. She, practiced in making conversation, eyed him pensively for a few moments.

"It is a lovely day," Sakura remarked calmly, tilting her chin up in his direction slightly. "And the gardens are beautiful as I was told."

Itachi glanced down, as if registering her presence. At last, he nodded stiffly. "Indeed it is," he replied in his liltingly velvet tone. "I walk here every day. If there were more time, I would take you to the pleasance."

Her eyes lowered slightly to hide the small glint within the green depths. "Maybe another time. But, master, why is everyone on a tighter schedule?"

The young man adopted a more serious countenance. "There is a family meeting later."

She nodded quietly, knowing not to press in the matters of politics. It was not her place to be involved with his family or the goings-on among it.

Rather, he supplied something more, which brought a somewhat surprised flicker to her expression. "It is merely a visiting family. It is nothing serious."

Though she was inclined to believe her master, there was a concealed something behind his expertly carved façade that made the independent thinker imprisoned within her doubt him for only a split second. Despite it, she creased her eyes politely in the closest she could get to a smile.

"Of course. Who is visiting?"

"The Yamanaka family," the Uchiha replied smoothly, and he set his jaw to betray a glimpse of distaste. He concealed it so graciously, and Sakura willed his composure to falter at least once. "They have been good allies to us."

She nodded stiffly in reply. "Yes, I have heard much of them—especially their heiress."

At last, he frowned, and she found herself amused that heir did indeed have an opinion of his own. "An… interesting girl, indeed."

She smiled only slightly, but bit it back by averting her eyes. However, as silence threatened to fall, it was suddenly interrupted by a second feminine voice. "Oh? I knew you couldn't stop talking about me when I left, Itachi."

Sakura blinked when the man's shoulders stiffened, and he gestured that she stop with a nod of his head. "Lady Ino," he greeted lightly, though the young girl could recognize the faint distinctness in his voice that indicated displeasure. "It is lovely to see you again."

'_Impossibly well-mannered_,' Sakura noted, adding to her mental file. '_An excellent liar, too._'

"I know," the girl replied with a self-satisfied smile spread over her lips. "It has been a while since I've graced you with my presence."

Sakura had heard many stories about the heiress of the Yamanaka Clan, and she was stunned to find every one of them was true. She walked with the grace of a noblewoman and dressed more extravagantly than anyone she had ever seen. She was a fine balance between Kanna and the Uchiha women… Though she supposed with her long, loose hair and mischievous eyes, she leaned more towards her aunt.

She was rumored to be proud and obstinate, with an opinionated streak unbefitting of a woman of her class… And, while Ino looked at her master with that boldly coquettish countenance, Sakura found herself both baffled and agitated with how word of mouth for once held a degree of veracity.

"I hope you don't mind if I join you," Ino added on, a subconscious, elegant turn of her head causing the blonde hair to flow over her shoulder, "and your friend." The latter was added in almost an afterthought, and Sakura felt a small twitch of annoyance pervade through her.

"No," Itachi replied, sensing his handmaiden's agitation and regarding it with a raise of his brow. "I do not mind. This is Haruno Sakura, my servant."

Sakura bowed in exaggerated respect. "Hello, Lady Ino. I have heard much about you."

"I'm not surprised," Ino replied with an indiscreet laugh. "People are always talking about me, after all, right, Itachi?"

Sakura balked inwardly and narrowed her eyes to thin slits while Itachi shuffled almost unconsciously closer to the opposite side of his handmaiden.

"Tell me," he diverted smoothly, casting Sakura a look that could almost be misconstrued as an apology, "how was your trip?"

"Boring as usual," she sighed melodramatically, her eyes falling half-lidded while she looked at him innocently. "I do hate daddy's talk of politics, but I'm happy to see you again."

Both master and servant shared a similar thought, as well as a very subtle change in countenance. Clearly, neither was particularly fond of the Yamanaka heir. Her vanity and the feminine maturity she carried herself with reminded her with a slight bitterness of her aunt; it was appaling they could be the same age.

"Yes," Itachi agreed, cutting into her thoughts, though he averted his eyes, almost as if exasperated. "I am afraid that there will be quite a bit of political discussion, however."

Sakura glanced up to him, her earlier misgivings bubbling to the surface of their countenance. His lips turned into a faint frown, as if beseeching that she keep her curiosity at bay until later.

"I don't understand why," Ino sighed softly, closing her eyes as she fell into stride beside the two. "So what if the Tanaka Clan has been a little restless lately?"

"I do not know." Itachi looked back at her with his mouth pulled into a thin, grim line. "We are not taking any threats from them lightly."

Ino shrugged, some of the smooth, pale skin from beneath her kimono showing with the motion. "I think it's just paranoia." Subconsciously, she tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "But very well… It's not concerning me for now."

Itachi narrowed his eyes, and then slowly let out a sigh. "Yes… I will not think much of it for now."

Satisfied Ino had diffused at least some of the tension and changed the subject, she beamed up at him. However, silence descended over the three for a few moments while they simply enjoyed the scenery. At least, Sakura tried to enjoy it as much as possible—she could feel the burn of her master's gaze on her face and sides, while Ino cast more speculative, amused glances at her.

Though, Ino had fallen silent, for she admired the flowers around them with particular fondness. The only noise she made again was when they crossed over a bridge spanning over one of the Uchiha koi ponds.

Though, Sakura could not help but agree in the quiet admiration. After all, the fish were plentiful and beautiful with glossy scales beneath the glasslike surface of the water. It would have been more relaxing had the blonde not arrived, but Sakura could not protest the company of one her master was familiar with. However, her train of thought was interrupted when a sound of footsteps behind them caught her attention.

The three turned over their shoulders to eye the newcomer, who was a young Haruno girl. She bowed deeply. "I apologize for interrupting your walk, Lord Itachi," she murmured quietly, keeping her head low. "Your father wishes to see you before the meeting begins."

Itachi tilted his chin upwards in acknowledgement before he turned to the two women beside him. "I apologize for the sudden leave," he stated with quiet sincerity. "I will see you both shortly."

"Of course, master."

"Goodbye for now, Itachi!"

Itachi regarded both of them placidly for a few moments. He bowed quickly to Ino as a show of respect, but then slid his eyes lingeringly to Sakura. He uttered both their names as his departing words, but his stare did not release her until he turned away. The pink-haired girl shivered down to her core at the burn of his eyes, but she retained her composure until he and the messenger girl left their sight.

Sakura was then left alone with the Yamanaka heiress, and she folded her hands tightly in her uneasiness. Yet, the girl across from her seemed relatively at ease, with almost a playful look in her blue eyes.

"You're interesting to him," she remarked casually, as if it were every day that such things were discussed.

Sakura went rigid and froze, her green eyes widened. "W-what?"

"Oh, yes." Ino nodded. "Most people don't pay much attention to the little things since he's so quiet… But I've known him for a while."

Her tone was almost sing-song, as if she were proud of herself for declaring something so… so very unethical. Ino laughed softly when the perturbed look refused to fade completely for the servant's countenance. "Relax… Sakura, was it? I think he's just trying to figure you out."

"There is nothing to figure out," Sakura countered emphatically, her hands twisting together at the sentiment the noblewoman offered her. The uneasiness welled up within her, but the pink-haired girl could detect no malicious intent or mocking within the girl.

With that realization, she almost shyly peered up at her. Ino smiled slightly and shook her head disarmingly. "Don't worry… It's not like I'm going to say anything about it."

A soft sigh passed her lips, and she slowly offered a smile in return. It was not much, for her lips were almost unaccustomed to taking on the shape. Unable to smile for anyone else unless first regarded with one, she had been deprived of the simple liberty by the stoic Uchiha.

"Thank you, Lady Ino."

"You can call me Ino." The girl waved her hand dismissively. "You're not working for me or anything… I don't like to be addressed so formally by someone my age."

Sakura nodded warily, her eyes meeting the other girl's for a few moments. "Ino, then."

Blue met green for a few moments before Sakura groped through her mind; her eyes averted from the upper-class girl to study the delicate blossoms scattered along the arrangements. "I saw you looking at the flowers earlier. Do you like them?"

A small spark kindled in the girl's blue eyes. "Yes, I do," she sighed whimsically. "I love them—study them, arrange them…"

Sakura nodded slightly, her own eyes softening now that the girl had at least some depth to her thus far. The blonde-haired girl absently moved towards a branch of a plant, whose green stalk bore soft heart-shaped blossoms on its underside.

"I always love coming here because the gardens are so beautiful," she continued lightly. "We have nice ones as well, but some of the flowers here are so unique."

Ino let go of the branch and regarded it with fondness that mellowed her so much from earlier. "It just amazes me how such dull people can have such lovely flowers. You know what I mean, I'm sure."

Though Sakura knew it unwise to speak negatively of her hosting family, she lowered her eyes evasively. "I suppose I do…"

"I'll take that as a yes," Ino replied almost triumphantly, smirking. "Well, they're all dull except for Itachi and his brother… Though Itachi is a little too serious for my tastes."

"Itachi's brother…?" Sakura inquired cautiously, having not seen him in many years.

The blonde regarded her with a quizzical, pitying sort of look. "Uchiha Sasuke," she supplied in an almost dreamily wistful sort of tenor. "He's gorgeous and elusive—a samurai."

A small, amused glint lit the servant's countenance; she never could be so very trivial over a man. It seemed silly to pine so for what was nearly impossible to attain. Her only show of discernable emotion was that he had become a samurai—that was certainly news to her. "You have met him?"

"Yes, he used to be around a lot before his training." Disappointment elicited a sigh. "He's a little more expressive than that brother of his, but both of them are so mysterious…"

"I agree," Sakura muttered darkly. As a young woman who prided herself on reading others, she had made little to no chip in the enigma that was her master.

"I bet you would." Ino laughed pensively, eyeing another flower not too far off as they walked together. "Itachi is difficult, but if you watch his eyes, you can figure some things out."

"Oh?"

"Of course," the noblewoman replied smoothly; a smug smile replaced her thoughtful demeanor. "There are few people I can't read. Itachi and Sasuke are tough contenders, but I was able to figure out he does have emotions. He's patient and kinder than he lets on—he just keeps to himself because he likes to think."

Ino tapped her temple knowingly when Sakura gave her an almost dubious look. "Trust me, Sakura. And I know that you interest him; it's that look in his eyes. I may have a little more liberties to test him, but just watch."

Sakura gave Ino a lingering look while she retreated a few paces to pluck the pink flower from its perch. The blossom was soft and delicate in her nimble fingers, and the pink-haired girl found herself admiring it while the blonde twisted it in her fingers.

Ino tapped her chin softly with the flower, her blue eyes narrowed to thin, analytical slits. She eyed her hair ornament, which was simple in contrast to many of the other women's as was dictated by the unwritten law. Slowly, she approached the servant and slid the blossom into clip.

She smiled while Sakura parted her lips in stunned silence. "There. Don't let the family crush you too much. I promise Itachi's not that bad of a guy."

The girl had proved to be far more intelligent and somewhat deeper than she had given her credit for. Lowering her eyes, she uttered her gratitude while something became quite apparent to him. This house was simply full of false preconceptions and misleading appearances.

Ino grinned with a flourish of her hand. "Though I don't see why he's so interested in _you_!"

Sakura's eyebrow twitched faintly. Perhaps she had been wrong…

* * *

Night had fallen over the Uchiha compound and its jurisdiction of power. Silence blanketed it, for the moon hung over the land, a beacon of relief for the workers who worked in the fields and mines. Haruno men retreated into their homes to visit their women; it was customarily quiet, as they had long since gone to sleep to prepare for the early rising. However, the Uchiha home was bustling with activity Itachi had never seen before.

Large throngs of people moved dutifully through the hallways, with a dull drone of voices that carried faint whispers of paranoia and fear she had never seen before in these people. Sakura was swept along with the crowds towards the room that was everyone's current destination. A meeting was to be held tonight—the snippets of conversation from the two heirs had alerted her that something was amiss… Discussion of that and the welcoming of the equally prestigious Yamanaka Clan was all this would entail, she maintained.

'_There is nothing to worry about', _she thought with a determined set of her jaw. Right?

She shook her head a bit to herself, respectfully dodging around the groups of noblemen towards the kitchen nearly adjacent to the large room generally used for political meetings. Heaving a sigh when she moved through the small wave, the pink-haired girl entered the kitchen where the fervent movement of servants was no less chaotic than the migration outside.

Voices barked orders and instructions while the shuffle of robes and rise of steam from the burners added to the urgent tenor hanging around the kitchen.

"Sakura," a voice called to her, making her blink and recall her purpose.

Immediately, she scurried to one of her family members, who busied herself by setting teapots and cups in perfect circles along the tray. "You have served tea before," the older woman murmured distractedly, passing the tray into her waiting arms. "Serve your master first, then those around him."

"Yes," Sakura murmured obediently, steadying the tray in her practiced palm.

As a servant to the daimyo's son, she was trusted enough to attend to the men present in this meeting; along with several other more experienced girls, she was to assure everyone's needs for drinks were satisfied before the official aspect of the gathering commenced.

Serving tea always made her wary but all the more careful—the memory from her past mistakes of spilling was ingrained in her mind and made her steps deliberate and graceful as she moved into the room where countless Uchiha men sat beside a long table. There were perhaps one-hundred, most wizened and stern in face and rigid in posture.

Her green eyes swept the table before she located Itachi beside his father and a blonde-haired man, whose high ponytail fell down his back and reminded her of Ino. So this must have been her father—Yamanaka Inochi. Drawing in her breath, she walked amongst the still amassing group and other busy servants towards the most important people present.

The few fair-haired men amongst the dark colors as well as a few Uchiha regarded her with curious, burning stares she had long-since become accustomed to. After all, it was not every day that one came so close to a 'demon'…

She kept composed and stone-faced as she approached her master. As if he had sensed her, he looked up. Her heart leapt at the familiar gaze, and she felt her agitation flaring up for a moment. Was he trying to unnerve her? Pursing her lips, and then relaxing, she bowed her head to the men under the scrutiny of the daimyo, his son, and a closely allied and powerful man. The only solace she found was the gaze of Lord Inochi's daughter, who smiled at her from the corner of her eye.

Sakura was more grateful than she was allowed to express.

Carefully, she placed the cups down before the four, pouring the tea to the brim without a word. Every motion was practiced and almost artistic with a simple turn of the wrist. The gazes softened slightly when she turned respectfully and began to retreat—she had passed whatever test the older Uchiha man had conjured in his mind…

By the time she returned the empty tray to the kitchen and took her place and the opposite side of Itachi, the table had completely filled and the large doors slid closed. The murmur buzzed at full volume, and regardless of the fact her task was done, Sakura fidgeted slightly under the crackling tenseness in the air.

Itachi looked over for a moment before leaning slightly closer. "Relax, Sakura," he whispered lowly, causing her to start slightly in surprise. "It is nothing."

She peered up into his face and could read the consoling glint in his eyes despite his own uneasiness pulling his jaw taut. She nodded quietly, appreciating the comfort nonetheless. A few minutes passed while everyone settled, and she watched her master intently. He was alert and poised, perfectly mannered while he nodded his head in recognition to the older servants who passed them by. She silently was pleased by his respect, noting it as well in her mind. However, her observations were cut short.

Her head turned to the side when Uchiha Fugaku slowly rose from his seat and cleared his throat. Despite how quiet it was, the dominating, powerful aura he emanated seemed to still the movements and silence all conversation.

"The meeting will commence," the daimyo declared flatly, his dark eyes sliding over the gathered family members and visitors. "I first would like to welcome Lord Inoichi of the Yamanaka family as well as his family."

There was a soft murmur that spread, but it died down fairly quickly when their leader seemed to have more to say. "He brings news—news of our former enemies, the Tanaka Clan."

Sakura felt as if she were sinking down slowly from the weight of anxiety and wariness in the air. Fugaku turned to Inoichi with a nod, and the blonde man rose as the Uchiha sat down.

"Please, relax," the smooth, gentle voice of the Yamanaka Lord beseeched; his energy was equally powerful but somehow less imposing. "True I bring bad news, but there is no cause for alarm now."

Now the room refused to silence; the weight of what was to come was too great to suppress anyone's nerves.

"As we neighbor them more closely, I have always had men nearby the border. My scouts have noticed a rise in their activity. Their food production has increased and their army seems to be growing. Furthermore, I have noticed that there are more soldiers stationed near the border; there seem to be more every day."

"So they are planning to attack," an Uchiha elder observed coldly. "I knew they could not keep quiet for long."

"We cannot make assumptions like that," another countered.

"Of course we can; they tried to destroy us before. Let us do it first!"

Fugaku's eyes narrowed as he addressed his family. "Stop this now. We are not on the offensive." His head tilted up towards Inoichi. "It is suspicious, indeed, but I do not believe action must be taken now. We will, however, come to your aid if anything breaks loose."

A mixed reaction of angry mutters and supportive agreements erupted from the men gathered.

Itachi lowered his eyes slightly, and Sakura noted that his eyes seemed impossibly tired—almost sad. She had never seen him look so very old.

"While I agree we cannot let our allies suffer, we should not be involved in war," the young man offered softly, his voice scarcely carrying over the other louder voices around him.

"Itachi, you are still young; you do not know how to handle these things," an elder addressed him sternly, his eyes pinning him with an intense stare, which the younger Uchiha met placidly.

"Perhaps not," he countered smoothly. "For now, I propose that we merely prepare; the threat to the Tanaka may ease their suspicious activity."

The older man grunted noncommittally, and while Sakura felt herself unnerved at the prospect of war but uncertain of the proper solution, she admired her master's equanimity and ability to diffuse anger. Inoichi seemed to appreciate the proposition, and Fugaku regarded his son intently.

"So be it." He seemed to address everyone present. "We will send word for more of our samurai."

There seemed to be a more unanimous consent, and when Fugaku nodded, both daimyo sat.

"I hear word that your son is on his way, regardless, Fugaku," someone in the middle of the table said evenly.

"Is that right," Fugaku mused, the phrase seeming more of a statement than a question. Both Ino and Itachi seemed to perk up at this, and while Sakura was more amused at the former, the latter surprised her somewhat…

"Yes," the Uchiha replied. "Sasuke has been seen along with another man—Uzumaki Naruto, I presume."

A grunt passed the daimyo's lips while his son grew more restless. It was subtle, but as Ino had suggested, Sakura merely watched… Fugaku spoke up again after a small silence. "I expect a messenger to send for me when he returns home."

Through all the discussion of what had transpired in the brief meeting, the dismissal was scarcely heard. However, slowly, the men present began to disembark, all quite absorbed in their respective conversations.

When Itachi rose to his feet, Sakura quickly stood up beside him and followed like an obedient dog when he moved away from his father without another word. For a moment, Sakura glanced over her shoulder at the young Yamanaka girl, Ino, who met her eyes for a brief moment. They regarded each other in silence, before she was finally forced to break her gaze when Itachi started to move ahead of her.

The two left through the wide doors and the young, dark-haired man immediately moved towards the direction of his room. He seemed darker, with his broad shoulders curled slightly in displeasure. Sakura scurried forward to stop at his side, and she looked up at him with a soft crease of her brow.

"Master," she murmured softly, struggling to keep her curiosity and concern at bay. "Are you all right?"

"I am fine, Sakura," Itachi replied mutedly, turning his eyes tiredly towards her. "I am merely remembering."

She blinked, perplexed and hungry for answers, but did not push him farther than he supplied—it was not her place to try to psychoanalyze the man despite her need to figure something out about him.

As if sensing it, he shook his head. "Forget about it," he requested mutedly, clearly unwilling to discuss this topic.

Nodding, she diverted her attention elsewhere. "I did not know your brother had become a samurai."

His demeanor seemed to soften and relax even somewhat. "Yes… He left a few years ago to begin training."

Sakura blinked interestedly, but noted he seemed almost wistful. "You miss him."

Itachi allowed a small smile to curve on his lips. "Yes, I do. Is it so obvious?"

"No," she replied honestly, her eyes lighting up a bit. Somehow, he seemed more human, with the knowledge he cared for someone… "I can just… I can tell you were close."

"A long time ago, we were," he agreed, slowly his steps to walk in stride with her. "My father favored me because I was first in line. He always resented me, especially as he grew older. So, he left to train—it was one field I could never surpass him in."

As an only child, she never could understand sibling rivalry, or the pain of having one so close in blood displeased with you… "I am sorry," she whispered pensively. "I am sure it is hard."

Itachi nodded, his eyes almost knowing. "You are an only child. It is difficult to grasp."

"I am," she murmured guardedly. "But I can sense people's emotions well."

Itachi considered it for a few moments with that piercing, almost omniscient stare. "Yes," he conceded at last. "Tell me, have you made progress?"

Sakura started somewhat, her green eyes widening at the challenging smirk upon his face. She grasped wordlessly for an answer, his lips parted dumbly. At last, after floundering through air, she sighed. "Some."

A sound of amusement passed his lips as the patient smile began to fade. It seemed impossible that he was more breathtakingly handsome when he smiled, but she looked away when they reached the door to his room. "I see."

The pleasant aura around them was different but welcome to the young woman. Even in silence, she found herself content. And, now, as the night dragged on, she found herself observing the young Uchiha with a new opinion. And, along with Ino's input, she found herself eyeing him with a degree of fondness.

He was not a bad person… He was intelligent and sentimental to a degree behind his cold exterior. He treated her well enough and was respectful to the other servants in the home… She found herself lucky to be a servant to someone lenient and kind enough.

Surely, though, he could not be perfect.

Taking advantage of the easiness between them, she looked up at him more seriously, almost somberly. "Master, do you think everything will be all right?"

He gazed into her eyes for a long few moments, the exchange intense and growing rapidly more grim. "I do not know, Sakura. I know war, and it is a terrible thing."

She breathed a shaky sigh. The admission was simple and truthful but somehow very poignant. She did not want the white-washed lie and assurance that everything would be okay. Twisting her lips into a frown, she nodded.

"I hate violence more than anything," he whispered, and her eyes softened slightly. She took a step forward, but reminded herself exactly who this was. It was so difficult to suppress her caring side when there was an indescribable agony alight in his eyes.

However, he suppressed it with a simple blink and sighed tremulously when he noted she was looking at him with such a troubled countenance. "But if they are foolish enough, so be it."

There was certain guardedness within him now… And was there a trace of remorse and deceit?

"I do not care. Let them destroy themselves."

He looked away before she could truly place what she saw in his eyes. "Goodnight, Sakura."

Uchiha Itachi was… treasonous? She looked at his back in stunned silence, and she finally angled her head away from him while he radiated more of his brooding, troubled energy. "Goodnight, master."

Indeed, no one was perfect. He was dark. He was a flawless liar.

She only wished his fault was not so troubling.


	5. Chapter 4

* * *

I am so sorry this took so long to get up. Between some personal issues and schoolwork, it just seemed to get lost, but here it is. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you all so much for the reviews and favorites.

* * *

**The Forbidden Fruit:**

Chapter Four

* * *

What was it about the Uchiha house that seemed to have her preconceived ideas turning inside out? She performed her duties perfectly and exactly as her master wished, yet she could not shake the feeling that she was doing something horribly wrong.

Socialization was expected and permitted, yet the degree she was beginning to feel more comfortable with Uchiha Itachi was unsettling. Everything she had once thought about him was wrong—he was kind and lenient as well impossibly intelligent. Every night, they would stay awake and speak on a variety of subjects from philosophy to literature, and the challenge on her mind allowed her to flourish and grow to respect him more.

Sometimes, he even inquired after her personal life, and she had opened up to him. The fact that he had not spoken more than three sentences about himself was blaringly apparent, but she never pushed the topic. After all, it was not her place to even come to know her master intimately, nor was it within her rights to drill him for answers pertaining to something as trivial as his preferences…

The loneliness within her craved a friend, but she would never be allowed anything but a man who treated her kindly in the necessary evil of her work. Though, as time went on, she found that her desires had been answered—and in the most unlikely of ways.

While her master and the rest of his family seemed to grow more restless as the days went on with talks of war and preparations, the Yamanaka family became more frequent visitors with more information and insight. Ino became a more frequent girl in her life, and in the time they had together, Sakura found that she had become quite attached. Surely, it was against some policy to relate to someone so well who was classes above another…

The stresses and paranoia in her life were building steadily, but she could still not bring herself to regret conceding to come here. It was days that Itachi gave her time off that she was especially grateful for him; walking with her cousins served to provide her time to unravel her thoughts and analyze her predicament.

Three sets of feet tread rhythmically through the plush grass that stretched over the outskirts of the village of Konoha, and the sound of their voices along with the dim ambience of nature were the only disruption of the serene silence. In the warm, springtime sun that caressed their backs with its heat, the girls had found themselves alone and far away enough from the Uchiha home.

Their shoes dangled from their thin fingers and clattered together with each step over the soft grass beneath their feet, and a few tendrils of their hair fell loose from their tight styles in the heat of the late morning. It was bliss for Sakura—to be herself in the presence of her cousins.

However, as she and her fifteen-year conversed, the youngest of them, Mina, let out a heavy sigh. Her small shoulders slumped slightly with an over exaggerated arc of her back in her weariness. Slowly, she raised a hand to her face to draw it across her sweat-coated forehead.

"Can we stop here?" she drawled out, her irritability reflected in her voice and the pinch of her brow.

The other two girls silenced themselves briefly. Ai studied her younger sister intently, and she heaved a sigh. Unwillingness seized her voice for a moment, but she reached forward to brush the stray hair from her forehead and feel the heat on the girl's incarnadined cheeks.

Sakura noted the girl's back straighten slightly, and a twinge of surprise pulled upon her heart. Concern tore through any reluctance to cut their walk short, and she hurried forward. "Is she all right?"

Ai angled her chin up at her older cousin and nodded stiffly. Uneasily, she pursed her lips into a thin line, and she bent over to her younger sister, and the tendrils of her loose hair hardly moving from the sweat that clung to the strands.

Mina looked hazily up at Ai, and she only whimpered at the soothing words she uttered. The heat hovered close to her, stifling out her equilibrium until everything seemed to waver into doubles. Despite it, she was comforted through her disorientation by the gentle strokes on the side of her face.

Ai lifted her into her arms and nestled the girl's head into the crook of her neck. "She'll be fine," she stated, recognizing the symptoms, When one was out in the sun so long, one tended to get sick. The red upon the little girl's cheeks attested to it.

Sakura clenched her jaw tightly, feeling that as the eldest in the group she should have paid more attention, but she had been partly selfish in her want of a long walk and neglected to her responsibility. Thus, it was up to her to take action. This was exhaustion from the heat and sun, so they needed to find a water source and get the girl's temperature down.

"We need to cool her off—then get her home." Her voice was firm and authoritative.

She was relieved at the sight of a lake in the vicinity. She muttered a quick 'come on', and darted off with her two younger cousins in tow. The trees overhead provided passing shade to the three as they hurried towards the water. At last, panting, they approached the lakeshore with their feet sinking into the mud along its banks.

Ai dropped to the ground, carefully cradling the girl's head by resting her hand at the nape of her neck, while Sakura dipped her hands into the clear surface to gently pat Mina's face with cool water. They worked quickly while the sun was obscured by a cloud and tucked behind the protective limbs of the trees behind them that overlooked the glasslike, serene surface of the lake.

Once Mina's parched lips had been moistened once more and her thirst slaked, she began to adopt a healthier but paler glow. Flooded with a rush of relief through her veins, Sakura loosened the collar to the girl's yukata and watched as the drops of lake water cut glistening trails down the expanse of her neck. Wordlessly, Ai lifted her again and they carried her to the broad trunk of a tree.

"You're okay," Sakura whispered while she settled her against the oak and made sure she was bathed completely in the shade.

Ai and Sakura knelt at her sides, soothing her with gentle touches and words while her head lolled to the side to lazily rest on her sister's shoulder. "Can we go home now?"

Sakura let out a tremulous breath at the sound of her voice and allowed herself to go lax against the tree in relief. "Of – "However, before she could finish her sentence, the sunlight filtering down from the side was obscured by three broad and tall shapes—the silhouettes of men that had the blood nearly freeze in her veins.

Ai gasped and shrunk back against the tree, her head lowered both in submission and to conceal her face. Though the breath caught in Sakura's throat, and she felt the faintest wave of nausea tear through her, she rose to her feet defiantly.

"Well, well," one of the men began huskily. His head tilted to the side, like a predator scrutinizing the weaknesses of his prey. His shoulders drew back, and Sakura only lifted her chin higher. "A bunch of defenseless little girls."

Ai embraced her sister tightly, while her pink-haired cousin stood in front of them, despite the fact her malnourished frame could scarcely hide them from view. "Go away," she growled, her eyes narrowed to slits. "We're not dealing with criminals."

"Pompous," another man spat. He slunk beside the first one to speak with a set of piercing eyes stabbing directly through Sakura. "Ah, I know you. I've seen you walking with that Uchiha swine—no wonder you've got that horrible attitude."

The trio laughed, and despite the faint trembling in her knees, Sakura stood intrepid, her shoulders back, hands clenched tightly, and she lifted her chin with only the illusion of haughtiness. Yes, they recognized her… They would just insult them, like the cowards they were, and then skulk off to their miserable existences.

With the Uchiha name to protect her, no one, not even these Yakuza, could harm her. They were merely bitter, as was ingrained in them… She had heard the stories of the bloody civil war with them and the Uchiha on opposing sides that had occurred nearly sixteen years ago. The senior members fed them all sorts of lies to cause this prejudiced hatred to fester. They remained bitter to this day on their loss.

"Go to hell," Sakura grit out. Her muscles ceased their quivering while she held her ground, and she spat upon the ground at their feet. "The Uchiha will crush you into the ground again."

The third man snarled. "Got a mouth on you, huh?"

Sakura took a half a step back when the three moved closer. "Sakura!" Ai cried out helplessly, worried, holding Mina's mouth as she moaned her discomforts and fear.

The first one to have spoken was the largest, and headed the group. He pounded his fist into his opposite, open palm. "Guess we're going to have to teach you a lesson."

Sakura steadied herself enough to keep her voice even, and she let out a single note of laughter. She outturned her elbow and flicked her palm patronizingly, disbelievingly. "And what's the worst you can do?"

The three burly men exchanged glances, and then chuckled darkly. It was then that Sakura regretted standing up to them, as she truly believed they would not touch her. Now she was risking her cousin's safety. My how reckless she had become.

"Ai, get out of here." She said firmly, never taking her eyes off the yakuza in front of her.

Ai seized Mina's tiny hand in her own. "Come on!" If they went fast enough they could get help, but right now what could she do but leave?

As they ran away two gripped each of Sakura's arms in a bruising vice, while the other lifted her legs from behind to hoist her off the ground. Flailing wildly through the air, she cursed and hissed and struggled—more loudly and violently than they had ever dealt with from a girl before.

"Let me go, you bastards!"

However, the struggle did not last long as they carried her to the lake's edge and swung her backwards. They used the momentum to toss her into the water, and she broke the surface tension with a resounding 'splash' that sent a rain of water droplets around her. The ripples lapped hungrily at the shore, and the three Yakuza laughed raucously despite the fact they nursed small scratches from her.

Sakura, once again, regretted that supposedly unquenchable fire within her. Today it could cost her life, as she could not swim and the fabric weighed her down. Icy panic slithered through her small form, and she desperately writhed through the murky water while the breath and life was choked out of her. Her heart raced, her eyes widened in stark terror as she was pulled under…

"Someone," she screamed, though only bubbles came out. "help me…"

Just as the water rushed into her mouth, something gripped her collar and yanked her abruptly. She was thrown, rolling and sputtering, onto the warm grass, and splayed out limply on her side. A coughing fit gripped her while she struggled to dispel all the water from her lungs.

When she recovered at last, shivering violently and appearing even smaller and weaker with her disheveled hair and her clothing clinging to her skin, she looked up to see none other than Yamanaka Ino surrounded by several armed guards, each with one of her assailants in his grip.

Her eyes stung with tears, and the remnants of terror and a newfound gratitude cut furrows into her brow. Ino, whose eyes held all the concern in the world, dropped to her knees with an unceremonious shush of the grass.

"Sakura," she breathed and pulled the girl into a crushing hug. Their hearts raced together, and Sakura weakly trembled as the blonde stroked her back. "What were you thinking?"

"I don't know," she rasped and shook now from the chill. "I thought…"

Ino waved her hand over the girl's shoulder, and her guards, whose spear points glinted ominously in the harsh sunlight, led their prisoners off. "You weren't thinking!"

Slowly, she drew away, her brows knit together in a stern medley of concern and anger. "You could have been killed, Sakura. You don't mess around with them."

The words cut deeply into her, and she lowered her head, ashamed and righteously angry at what happened. The simmering rage, however, took all of her strength to suppress and not lash out at her friend. "I… I know."

Ino let out a weary sigh, and her blue eyes softened while she tucked the pink hair behind Sakura's ear. "Come on; let's get you home. And, hey, you're getting me soaked."

Her last comment was laced with tentative humor, and the ashen face of the Haruno girl creased reluctantly into a smile. "Yeah…" Everything grew fainter and darker, until her eyes slowly fell shut.

* * *

Fleetingly, he considered that the events transpiring around him were determined to kill him one way or another. The prospect of war had been a heavy burden upon his shoulders, and his every memory plagued him from within. Even though sixteen years had passed, he saw through the eyes of a four-year-old in his dreams.

The wind rushed by his ears and ruffled his hair in a messy array, and the sounds of his breathing in time to the tempo of his footfalls were almost too harsh and too distant to be his own. Despite the heaving and burning within his lungs, he could never stop running—not with the branches scraping upon his skin, not with the exhaustion setting into his body.

Perhaps this was why he never slept, and when he did, he awoke exhausted from the exertion of his slumber. All he heard was screaming and all he saw was blood—blood that never washed away regardless of how the rain pounded upon his form.

The memory of it even now sent cold chills down to his bones. Would he ever escape this world of fear? His breaths were shaky as he neared his room, and he clenched his fists a few times to ease the tension that pulled his every muscle taut. War was far off, he maintained fiercely with a set of his jaw and an arduous, painfully slow swallow, as if to gulp down his misgivings.

He had more pressing things to deal with, after all—things that were happening now.

A different sort of fear engulfed the prior one, and the agitation that simmered within his blood burned them both away. Sakura… The foolish girl had run her mouth to the wrong people, and despite the dark curl of righteous anger that grew within him, he could not bring himself to wish to punish her.

It was what made her fascinating, despite his most ardent efforts to ignore her entirely. There was something indefinite that drew him in—it was certainly not her beauty. Exotic, yes, but she was so simple--not at all as beautiful as some other women. But her spirit was breathtaking.

Uchiha Itachi prided himself on being a man of restraint—a man who could deny any attraction or obstacle. Yet, a mere servant was undoing all that he had strived so hard for, and if there was one thing he truly hated, it was losing control of a situation. She managed to live out all that he despised in nearly getting herself killed as well as drawing him in with that damnable will.

Carefully, Itachi pushed open the door to his room, and frowned at the emptiness that greeted him. His bed was made and undisturbed, with the sheets smoothed over the soft futon mattress. His desk's papers were in order, just as he had left them— unlike how they usually shifted just so when she cleaned.

Her small 'injury' was felt, and he was surprised at the fleeting hollow feeling he felt when instinct placed her as forever missing. Shaking his head, Itachi moved forward with his feet creaking very lightly upon the tatami mat floor. His hand rested upon the wall and slid along it until he stopped before her door.

Through the thin paper, he could see the outline of her slumbering form; pity slithered through him as he pulled the door aside. The softened view of her in these moments made him painfully aware of just how small her room was when he stepped inside. But the most shocking sight of all was her wan pallor when he gazed down upon her.

A shaky sigh was drawn from his lips, and he felt a painful twinge of his heart. Usually so vivacious, the young man almost felt it out of place to see her so very vulnerable. Her body was laid out upon her thin mattress, with one palm supine beside her head; he looked over her, who was now so pale and fragile. His sympathy drowned out any anger he could have felt at her carelessness, and he knelt down beside her.

His hand twitched with a strange velleity—to touch her. And though everything within him screeched to resist, he could not help but lay two fingers on the underside of her jaw. Her pulse thrummed steadily and surely beneath his touch, and his entire stance went lax with relief. The skin was soft and yielding beneath him, but he managed to jerk his hand away.

When he settled his hand back at his side against the ground, he noticed a pair of wide, hazy eyes gazing through him.

"Sakura," Itachi breathed, and relief washed over him and purged any stoic tension from his face.

Soft, pink lips parted while she focused more intently upon him, as if finally coming into true awareness. She blinked a few times and grunted while rising. The rough sheets fell down her body, and her sleeve pooled at her elbow when she raised a hand to rub her temple. He was here…

It took a few minutes for true realization to sink in; her heart leapt wildly in surprise, and she felt the heat rising to the back of her neck in pleased surprise. "Ita—" she began, only to cut herself off, thoroughly humiliated that her pleasure had made her so forgetful. Gripping her upper arm with her opposite hand, she cleared her throat. "Hello, master."

Never would she had imagined that she would wake up to a visitor. No one in this house was her friend, nor did she expect them to be. But, even this aside, to have Uchiha Itachi kneeling beside her, with such a concerned crease on that handsome face… It was nearly surreal, and she gripped the blankets tightly to still the faint shiver of nervousness.

Itachi supposed he was not surprised or hurt by the shock that etched itself onto her body from her expression, down to the shy twist of her body away from him. It did not change the way he felt, and though he found himself shifting slightly, his head turned down toward the fabric upon his lap, he experienced no regrets for coming. If only he knew what to do for her now.

"You worried me."

"Forgive me," Sakura whispered gently, if not with a bit of a bite hidden behind her tone. She would be damned if she would be trapped within this house every day, but she sighed lightly with another apology uttered when she realized how exhaustion made her disrespect him so.

"How are you feeling?" Itachi asked quietly, almost subdued, and he tucked his hand in his sleeve when he felt it move towards her again.

"All right," she replied, sighing heavily while she dropped her head back upon the pillow. Her hands folded on her stomach, and she stared up at the white ceiling above her. "Tired."

"That is good." Pinpricks of guilt made their way up his spine; of course she was. She had nearly drowned, and he interrupted her sleep. "I shall let you go."

"Thank you…" Sakura pulled the covers up to her chin, and she mentally withered in shame and frustration. She could think of nothing more to say to him—nothing at all. Her gratitude transcended what she was able to show, and her surprise was unprecedented, yet she could only stare at him dumbly while he rose to his feet.

"Goodbye," he whispered, turning towards the door.

"Wait," Sakura cut in quickly.

Slowly, he turned the view of his profile towards her, and the breath was sucked from her lungs. Pursing her lips, she swallowed and opened her mouth, as if searching for the proper words. "Um… Thank you—thank you very much for visiting me."

The words sent a surprising tremor of happiness through him, but he did not show it. He only offered her a mellow smile—but a genuine one nonetheless. "It was not a problem."

The feeling of uneasiness was new and ruthless. He shut the door behind him, his mind rushing with a whirl of what he could have done and said… This new flurry of emotions as of late was perturbing—and the fear he experienced was unlike anything he had experienced before.

Numbly, he walked through the room, and as he slid open the door, he jumped slightly at the sight of an equally fluster young woman, whose hand was curled into a fist and poised, as if to knock.

She cringed back, the hand shrinking to her bosom. "Oh, Lord Itachi," she managed out, her voice strained. The urgency glittered in the depths of her brown eyes. "You are needed in the infirmary at once."

Itachi swore his heart stopped, and the blood stilled and went cold in his veins. "Who is there?" he asked darkly, his voice low and hushed while he moved out into the hallway.

Reality slowed in that brief moment and he already began walking down the hallway, his robes billowing out behind him while he, with a practiced step, was mindful not to stumble.

"Your brother, Sasuke."

His knees buckled for a moment, and he swore his heart would burst at the pace it stuttered along at. "Is he all right?" The pain was carved into his expression as if it was stone, and he felt a crippling wave of nausea. Countless, incomprehensible thoughts tore through his psyche.

"Yes," the young servant replied quickly, her feet moving swiftly as she struggled to keep up with the Uchiha's heir. "He is stable, they said; he just wishes to see you."

She opened her mouth, as if to say something else, but she could only let out a meek, stifled sound when the dark-haired man took off towards the infirmary without preamble. Itachi pushed his way through the hallways and dodged through the people that walked by. It was a state of unconscious panic that drove his every action and the fear that the one person he cared so deeply for would be gone if he hesitated a moment.

His manners were atrocious at present, but he could not bring himself to care as he burst through the door, winded but still composed on the exterior. However, the sight that met him was enough to make his carefully crafted façade to crumble.

The room was dim and silent—a sobriety that descended upon even one guest he had not seen in quite some time. Yet, his eye remained fixated on the bed laid out in the corner of the small room, past the shelves of herbs and the desk tucked along the opposite wall. The candle beside the futon cast a circle of orange light around it, bathing everything in a brighter glow and casting the haunting shadow of the downed warrior upon the wall.

His brother, Sasuke, lay bruised and lacerated, with his companion, Uzumaki Naruto at his side, and the fact he was injured was enough to pull violently at his heartstrings. His only relief was that he was, indeed, conscious and stable. The head of the Haruno home, Tamaki, had already left, as well as his assistants, but tea and some herbs still lay abandoned at the bedside, as well as a roll of bandages that was partially unraveled—the only indications he still needed care at all.

From what he could see, his entire arm was bandaged, and there were a few lighter scratches upon his face, while Naruto had only a single square of cloth placed upon his left cheek, concealing the three lines that cut across his cheeks. The blonde's hair was severely disheveled, and the familiar, wild glow in his eyes spoke of their travels and battles.

Finally, reality crashed around him, and he hurried forward to crouch at the side of his brother. Just how many more times would he be in this position today? Surely, he would not be able to withstand the toll it took on his emotions, to gaze down at people he cared about while they suffered...

"Sasuke," Itachi choked out at last. "What happened?"

The dark-haired boy looked up tiredly, his face still stark with the rage at being defeated. His pride smarted more than any injury he had sustained. "We were attacked by Tanaka soldiers on the way here."

"It's really bad out there," Naruto muttered gravely, and Itachi was startled with the tone of voice on the boy. "Some of the things…"

"Battles are already starting," Sasuke added in. "I've seen people being killed in all sorts of ways… And perhaps even more are being lost by taking their own lives. Kidnapping, plundering… "

Itachi already felt the stabs of fear prickling at the back of his subconscious. No, this could not be happening—not twice in his lifetime. His face, however, was purely business, while he knelt intrepidly before the two warriors. "Where are they?"

"Closing in on the border," the younger brother replied and shook his head. Angrily, he pounded the fist of his good arm into the ground, his teeth set fiercely. Itachi's eyes softened but he could say nothing to console the boy. "Damn… I should have been able to fend them off."

"You are alive; that is what matters for now." Itachi knew such news would not please him—he was far too much like the rest of their Clan in his ego. He would sooner die— Itachi knew very well they probably had taken him here with a struggle.

"It doesn't matter," he growled lowly and reached out to grab his brother's collar. "Listen to me, Itachi… I don't care what lies they're feeding you in the council or about your own morals, but things are bad. We don't have time for negotiations or stalling; we need action."

Itachi's brow pinched in agony. "Come with me to the meeting tomorrow…" He could not answer him—not now, not like this. He could present his own point, his own beliefs. And while he trusted his brother more than anything, the thought of sending people to their deaths…

He carefully disentangled Sasuke's fingers from his collar and pulled himself to stand once more while his cool composure took precedence.

"Fine," the samurai muttered and rolled onto his back. His eyes were dark and blank while he bore holes into the white ceiling overhead with only his eyes. "I'll be asleep."

Itachi's thoughts were troubled, and he could scarcely find it within himself for not behaving more favorably towards his brother's suggestions. He turned away slightly and began to head for the door, but the sound of Sasuke's voice made him stiffen once more.

"I will tell you now, though, brother. There will be war."

Itachi's jaw clenched firmly, and he nodded curtly. "We shall deal with it when it comes." The Uchiha heir slid open the door and stepped into the hallway, but the sound of footsteps behind him made him pause in the hallway.

"Hey, hey, wait!"

His lips twitched into a frown when Naruto tagged along and shut the door tightly behind him.

"Hey, I hope you don't mind me coming along," the young man said lightly, scratching the back of his head. "I want to talk to you."

"No, that is fine Naruto…" Itachi replied slowly. A small twinge of exasperation meandered through him. The boy was nice—almost impossibly so. But with his mind taxed from his subconscious and his body automatically craving sleep as the night approached, he did not believe he could deal with the loudness…

However, he conceded when the blonde cracked a wide smile and attempted a jab of humor.

Naruto leaned over, his blue eyes darting about, and he cupped his hand across his mouth, as if to project his voice. "Besides… I can't take too much more of your brother's brooding. He's driving me crazy."

Itachi smirked despite himself. "Very well… Come along."

* * *

While his servant was out of commission for the evening, other members of their workforce respected him and their guest well enough to bring them a kettle of tea. Each knelt comfortably on opposite ends of the low-lying table in Itachi's room, and despite the pillows situated beneath them, Itachi could see Naruto fidgeting from discomfort or anxiousness—or perhaps a combination of both.

He knew the blonde long enough he had trouble remaining inactive, especially when there was something on his mind, and he merely waited patiently for him to bring it up of his own accord. He brought the cup to his lips and contentedly drank down its contents.

Itachi set down his ceramic cup upon the smooth wood of the table and absently watched as the thin curl of diaphanous steam snaked upwards towards his ceiling. The blonde squirmed slightly while he eyed the Uchiha across him with narrowed eyes, nearly closed in his focus.

At last, it grew too much for him to hold in, and he startled the heir by slamming his hand upon the table. Itachi hissed a hushed 'careful' at the loud sound, as well as how the teacups precariously quivered from the blow.

"All right," Naruto began at last, his tone rough and loud while he crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes opened wide at last to scrutinize the man across from him, and he nodded a bit to himself, as if in thought. "I know you don't really want to hear it right now, but if you have to get involved, you've got me and my group to support you."

Itachi sighed patiently and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It is very generous of you…"

"Hey, hey," Naruto cut in quickly, holding up his hand. His face was alight with determination and firmness. He possessed a fierce attitude that the Uchiha silently admired, despite how it made him naïve at times. He rested his palm flat on the table and met his eyes evenly, clearly not intimidated. It seemed his brother had accustomed him to it—or he simply was too bold to be dominated. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Like your brother said, it's bad out there… And not only are your old rivals a threat, but they've got allies too. Normally, I wouldn't bother so much to recruit and stuff, as much as I like you guys… But it's personal now." Naruto grit his teeth tightly together to withhold any sudden flaring out of his anger, but his volume and resoluteness only grew.

Itachi genuinely felt pity, and Naruto kept his body in check despite the excited tremors that gripped him and the adrenaline that rushed through him.

"Those bastards… They attacked our home—they killed my father, and I was too weak to do anything. And now because of that, they've usurped him." His fist clenched almost audibly into a fist. "But, they better watch out because Uzumaki Naruto is coming to take back the title!"

Itachi's lips parted, and he was filled with a fleeting sense of awe at the passionate words and the fire in his blue eyes.

"I'm going to get back in power with or without your help and fix this whole mess—the conflict between you two Clans, the unrest in the people, any other threats… I'm going to make this the best rule yet—with me, Naruto, the best Shogun who ever lived!"

"Excuse me."

"Eh?"

Both men snapped their heads back towards the source of the sound, and Itachi, though surprised by her sudden interruption, was immensely relieved to see that she was on her feet again and well. However, what he did not expect was the wanton sight she presented that sent a faint shiver up his spine. No, he could not be thinking of such things…

Her arm was braced against the doorframe and supported her entire, lithe body that was covered barely by the thin sleeping robe she donned. It revealed just a bit of her legs, a surprising sight when she was always covered from head to toe, and her long, pink hair fell down to her elbows in slightly mussed rivulets.

Itachi had never seen her look so raw… And so very alluring.

Carefully, she lowered her arm and folded her hands at her thighs to present herself more appropriately; however, her smile was fake and her manners perhaps even more so. The noise had disrupted her slumber, and she hadn't time to pin up her hair and change, especially when this… This strange man was spouting off nonsense.

She was tired, and she was achy; her eyes, still hazy from sleep, glinted dangerously while she spoke coolly but politely.

"Your dreams are foolish," Sakura remarked placidly, uncaring of how it would affect him. "I've heard of you—you're that Uzumaki boy. You think you've been the only one usurped over the years? Men greater than yourself have lost everything in war, but that's just how it is. Let me tell you about society. The moment you're down to my level you stay down here, unless you've got power and military. A rag-team of wannabe warriors could never think to fix years of oppression and strife." The years of suppression had made her only slightly bitter, and her green eyes narrowed to slits. "You should save yourself disappointment and just give up. Am I supposed to believe a mere boy like you can make my life—make anybody's life better?"

Sakura did not know what to expect—anger, a retort… Perhaps even him being crushed by the reality crashing around him. But she could regret nothing while she stared calmly at the two men. Itachi was surprised that such a bright-looking woman could potentially be so… icy. Uneasily, he looked at Naruto, who only stared at Sakura for a few moments with his mouth agape.

At last, he spoke. His whisker marks creased while his face stretched into a wide, toothy smile. "Hey, hey, Itachi…" His eyes were childishly lecherous, and he nearly giggled. "I didn't know you had such a sexy lady… You're telling me that was behind that screen the whole time?"

Appalled, Itachi could only stare wordlessly back at the man, while Sakura's face became lethal. An artery throbbed at her temple, and she felt a surge of rage grip her…

"E-excuse me?!"

Was this man stupid? He rose suddenly from his seat with the most captivated expression upon his face. Sakura could only sputter dumbly while he sidled up very close to her—too close for comfort. Her ire simmered within her body, and she nearly growled when he extended a finger to poke her cheek.

Her eyes widening, she batted away his hand, and she, slow in reaction time from just waking up, was surprised to have her hand locked in a fierce grip by the boy who had seized it all the in span of a split second. First, he had talked so boldly and stupidly, had roused her from sleep with his banging and yelling, and now _this? _

Finally, her wits came about her when he smiled at her with a victorious laugh. "Don't you dare touch me!"

Sakura promptly drew back her arm, and with alarming speed, cracked her open palm against the side of his cheek with a resounding slap. The force of the impact sent Naruto staggering back, and he collapsed against the ground with a whine while he nursed the red mark against his cheek with loud complaints and moans.

Itachi could only stare with widened eyes at his servant, who shook both from her anger and in utter shock of what she had done. She looked in a panic from him, down to the late shogun's son on the ground. Terror and mortification overtook her while she stammered incoherently for a few moments.

"O-oh, m-master… I, um…" Her neck heated up, and she turned on her heel to stand in the doorway. At last, she resorted only to her natural emotion. "It's not part of my job to be harassed by strange men!"

"Jeez, that really hurt!" Naruto griped while rubbing his sore face. "Damn, Itachi, what are you dealing with here?"

Itachi could only look past him at the door to his servant's room when she slammed it shut. Her temper was deplorable, especially for a woman of her status, yet somehow, he found it all the more fascinating… He cursed everything within him that drew him to the girl, and he merely raised the glass to his lips and drank down the last of his tea.

"I have no idea."


End file.
